
^^IlV TuBUC^^TlorJ^Of^TKE BC^T CUR.f^g^A^ C^-STANjMTCD LlTERj\TOfVE 



Vol. 7, No. 333. Jan. «, 1884. Annual Subscription, $50.1 




NT 
ROME i 



ANEOUS POEMS 



LORD MACAULAY. 



tered at the Tost Ofllce, N.Y., ns second-class matter, ijb 
Cop.vritrlit. 188*. by JoH.v W. Lovklf. (Jo. .<*J 



^S 




NEW YORK. 



^%J . , ... -J. . - ■ , 1^ * I ^ \/¥?^FY 5TREET 



14.^.16 Vl^EY STREET 







MTS BXnnro for thlt nhimo m b« cMtlMil frm uy bMkMilar w nawMlMltr, ^ric* lOcto. 



LOVELL'S LIBRARY.-eATALOGUE. 



1. Hj'perion, Longfellow .20 

2. Outre-Mer, do .20 

3. The Happy Boy, BjOrn- 

8011 10 

4. Arne, by BjOrnson ... ,10 

5. Frankenstein, Shelley. .10 
(i. Last of the Mohicans. .20 
r. Clytie, Joseph Hatton. .20 
S. The Moonstone, Part I .10 
9. The Moonstone, PartU .10 

10. Oliver Twist, Dickens. .20 

11. Coming Race Lytton. .10 
n. Leila, by Lord Lytton. .10 

13. The Three Spaniards. . ,30 

14. The Tricks of the 

Greeks Unveiled 20 

15. L'Abbe Constantin... ,20 
JO. Freckles. byRcdclilT. .20 

17. The Dark Colleen, Jay .20 

18. They were Married!.. .10 
in. Seekers after God 20 

20. The Spanish iJun 10 

21. Green Mountain Boys .20 

22. Fleurette, Scribe 20 

23. Second Thoughts 20 

21. The New Magdalen. .. .20 
2.5. Divorce, Mirgaret Lee .20 
20. Life of Washington... .20 

27. Social Etiquette 15 

28. Single Heart and Dou- 
ble Face, Chas. Reade .10 

20. Irene, by Carl Detlef.. .20 

30. Vice Versa, F. Anstey .20 

31. Ernest Maltravers 20 

32. The Haunted House. .10 

33. John Halifax, Mulock .20 
31. 800 Leagues on the 

Amazon, by Verne. . .10 

35. The Cryptogram 10 

.30. Life of Marion 20 

37. Paul and Virginia iO 

38. Tale of Two Cities 20 

39. The Hermits, Kingsley .20 
•10. An A d V e n t u r e in 

Thule, and Marriage 
of M. Fergus, Black. .10 

41. Marriage in High Life. .20 

42. Robin, by Mrs. Parr. . .20 

43. Two on a Tower..;:. .20 

44. Rassclas, Dr. Johnson .10 

45. Alice; or. Mysteries.. .20 
4(). Duke of Kando.s 20 

47. Baron Munchausen... .10 

48. A Princess of Thule. . . .20 

40. The Secret Despatch.. .20 

50. Early Days of Chris- 

tiauity 20 

Do., Part II 20 

51. Vicar of Wakefield... .10 

52. Progress and Poverty. .20 

53. The Spy, by Cooper. . .20 

54. East Lynne, Mrs Wood .20 

55. A Strange Story 20 

00. AdamBede,Eliot,P'tI .15 

Do,PartII 15 i 

.'■.7. The Golden Shaft 20 I 

58. Portia, by The Duchess .20 I 

59. Last Days of Pompeii, .20 

60. The Two Ducheases. . . .20 



.15 



61. Tom Brown's School 

Days 20 

02. The Wooing O't.P.t I .15 
The Wooing 0't,P't II .15 

63. The Vendeta. Balzac. .20 

64. Hypatia, by Kingsley, .15 
Do., Part II 15 

65. Selma, by Mrs. Smith. .15 

66. Margaret and her 

Bridesmaids .90 

07. Horse Shoe Robinson .15 
Do., Part II 15 

68. Gulliver's Travels 20 

69. Amos Barton, by Eliot .10 

70. The Berber, by Mayo. .20 

71. Silas Marner, by Eliot .10 

72. Queen of the Coun ty . . 20 

73. Life of Cromwell, Hood. 15 

74. Jane Eyre, by Bronte. .20 

75. Child's Hist. England. .20 
70. Molly Bawn, Duchess .20 

77. Pillone, by BergsOe... .15 

78. Phyllis, The Duchess. .20 
7;). Romola, Eliot, Pare I. .15 

Romol.'i, Eliot, Part II 

80. Science in Short Chan- 

ters 20 

81. Zanoni, by Lytton 20 

83. A Daughter of Heth... .20 

83. The Right and Wrong 

Uses of the Bible 20 

84. Night and Morning... .15 
Do.,Partn 15 

85. Shandon Bells, Black. .20 
86'. Monica, The Duchess. .10 

87. Heart and Science 20 

88. The Golden Calf 20 

89. The Dean's Daughter. .20 

90. Mrs. GeofErey.Duches* .20 

91. Pickwick Papers, P'tl .30 
Do., Part II ;» 

92. Airy, Fairy Lilian 20 

93. Macleod of Dare 20 

94. Tempest Tossed 20 

Do., Part II .20 

Letters from High Lat- 
itudes, Earl Dufferin .20 

Gideon Fleyce 20 

India and Ceylon 20 

The Gvpsy Queen, 20 

The Admiral's Ward.. .20 

100. Nimport, Bynner, P't 1 .15 
Nimport, Part II 15 

101. Harry Holbrooke 20 

102. Tritons, Bynner, P't I. .15 
Tritons, Part II 15 

103. Let Noth'g You .Dismay . 10 

104. Lady Audlcyis Secret. 20 

105. M'omau's Place To-day .20 
lOG. Dunallan,by Kennedy .15 

Do.,PanII.^ 15 

107.. Housekeeping and 

HoraemaKing.. .W 

108. No New Thing. Norris .20 

109. Spoopendyke Papers. .20 

110. False Hopes 15 

111. Labor and Capital 20 

112. Wanda, Ouida, Part I. .15 
Wanda, Part II 15 



95. 



99. 



113. More Words al 

the Bible 

114. Monsieur Lecoq, ] 
Monsieur Lecoq, I 

115. Outline of Irish I 

116. The Lerouge Case. 

117. PaulCiifEord, Lyti 

118. A New Lease of L: 

119. Bourbon Lilies,... 

120. Other People's Mc 

121. The Lady of Ly 

122. Ameline du Bour, 

123. A Sea Queen, Rus 

124. The Ladies Lindo: 

125. Haunted Hearts.. 
l-;6. Lojs, Lord Beresfi 

127. Under Two Flags. 
Do. (Ouida), Part : 

128. Money, Lord Lyttt 

129. In Peril of his Lif 

130. India; What Can 

Teach Us? M. MC 

131. Jets and Flashes. . 

132. Moonshine and J 

guerites ., ... 

133. Mr. Scarborouj 

Family 

Do., Part II 

134. Arden, Mary Robin 

135. Tower of Percemoi 

136. Yolande, Wm. Bla 

137. Cruel London, Hat 

138. The Gilded Clique. 

139. Pike County Folks 

140. Cricket on the Hea 

141. Henry Esmond 

142. Strange Adventure 

a Phaeton 

143. Denis Duval, Tha 

eray 

144. Old Curiosity SJ 
Do., Part 11 

145..Ivanhoe, Scott, P'l 
Do, Part II... .... 

146. White Wings, Bla( 

147. The Sketch Book. 

148. Catherine, Thacke 

149. Janet's Repentam 

150. Barnaby Rudge, I' 
Baruaby Rudge, P 

151. Felix Holt, by Elid 
l.')2. Richelieu, by Lytt: 

153. Sunrise, Black, Fl 
Do , Part II 

154. Tour of the Worlc 

Eighty Days, V<l 
135. Mystery of OrciVal 

156. Lovcl, theWidow.i 

157. Romantic Advent n, 

of aMilkmaid. H;) 

158. David Copperfield.l 
Do, Part II 

159. Charlotte Templt.] 

160. Rieuzi, Lytton,^ 
Do., Part n..- 

161. Promise of ' 

162. Faith an^ 

163. The Up 

164. BaiT"" 



THE POETICAL WORKS 



LORD MACAULAY. 



FIRST AMERICAN EDITION. 



NEW YORK 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 
14 & i6 Vesey Street. 



tf 



er 

^ >> 

r 



'mms^' 



¥y 



CONTENTS. 



LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

rAGB 

horatius 31 

The Battle of Lake Recillus 56 

Virginia 92 

The Prophecy of Capys 119 

IVRY 136 

The Armada 14I 

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, INSCRIPTIONS, ETC. 

Epitaph on Henry Martyn 149 

Lines to the Memory of Pitt 149 

"P A Radical War Song 150 

The Battle of Moncontour 153 

The Battle of Naseby 155 

Sermon in a Churchyard 159 

Translation from A. V. Arnault 162 

Dies Ir^ 163 

The Marriage of Tirzah and Ahirad 166 

The Country Clergyman's Trip to Cambridge 184 

Song 188 

POUTICAL GEORGICS 189 



Vi CONTENTS. 

y 

PAOB 

Thb Deliverance of Vienna 191 

The Last Buccaneer 197 

Epitaph on a Jacobite 198 

Lines Written in August 199 

Paraphrase of a Passage in the Chronicle of the 

Monk of St. Gall 203 

The Cavalier's March to London 205 

Inscription on the Statue of Lord William Ben- 

TiNCK. at Calcutta 209 

Epitaph on Sir Benjamin Heath Malkin, at Cal- 
cutta 210 

Epitaph on Lord Metcalfe 2ii 

Translation from Plautus 212 

Valentine to the Hon. Mary C. Stanhope (Daugh- 
XBR of Lord and Lady Mahon) .^ 214 




PREFACE, 



That what is called the history of the Kings and 
early Consuls of Rome is to a great extent fabulous, 
few scholars have, since the time of Beaufort, Ventured 
to deny. It is certain that, more than three hundred 
and sixty years after the date ordinarily assigned for 
the foundation of the city, the public records were, with 
scarcely an exception, destroyed by the Gauls. It is 
certain that the oldest annals of the Commonwealth 
were compiled more than a century and a half after 
this destruction of the records. It is certain, there- 
fore, that the great Latin writers of the Augustan age 
did not possess those materials without which a trust- 
worthy account of the infancy of the republic could 
not possibly be framed. Those writers own, indeed, 
that the chronicles to which they had access were 
filled with battles that were never fought, and Consuls 
that never were inaugurated ; and we have abundant 
proof that, in these chronicles, events of the greatest 
importance, such as the issue of the war with Porsena, 
and the issue of the war with Brennus, were grossly 
misrepresented. Under these circumstances, a wise 
man will look with great suspicion on the legend 
which has come down to us. He will perhaps be in- 
clined to regard the princes who ar£ said to have 
founded the civil and religious institutions of Rome, 



8 PREFACE. 

the son of Mars, and the husband of Egeria, as mere 
mythological personages, of the same class with Per- 
seus and Ixion. As he draws nearer to the confines 
of authentic history, he will become less and less hard 
of belief. He will admit that the most important 
parts of the narrative have some foundation in truth. 
But he will distrust almost all the details, not only 
because they seldom rest on any solid evidence, but 
also because he will constantly detect in them, 
even when they are within the limits of physi- 
cal possibility, that peculiar character, more easily 
understood than defined, which distinguishes the 
creations of the imagination from the realities of the 
world in which we live. 

The early history of Rome is indeed far more poet- 
ical than anything else in Latin literature. The loves 
of the Vestal and the God of War, the cradle laid 
among the reeds of Tiber, the fig-tree, the she-wolf, 
the shepherd's cabin, the recognition, the fratricide, 
the rape of the Sabines, the death of Tarpeia, the fall 
of Hostus Hostilius, the struggle of Mettus Curtius 
through the marsh, the women rushing with torn rai- 
ment and dishevelled hair between their fathers and 
their husbands, the nightly meetings of Numa and 
the Nymph by the well in the sacred grove, the fight 
of the three Romans and the three Albans, the pur- 
chase of the Sibylline books, the crime of Tullia, the 
simulated madness of Brutus, the ambiguous reply of 
the Delphian oracle to the Tarquins, the wrongs of 
Lucretia, the heroic actions of Horatius Codes, of 
Scasvola, and of Cloelia, the battle of Regillus won by 
the aid of Castor and Pollux, the defence of Cremera, 
the touching story of Coriolanus, the still more touch- 



, PREFACE. 9 

ing story of Virginia, the wild legend about the drain- 
ing of the Alban lake, the combat between Valerius 
Corvus, and the gigantic Gaul, are among the many 
instances which will at once suggest themselves to 
every reader. 

In the narrative of Livy, who was a man of fine im- 
agination, these stories retain much of their genuine 
character. Nor could even the tasteless Dionysius dis- 
tort and mutilate them into me e prose. The poetry 
shiaes, in spite of him, through the dreary pedantry 
of his eleven books. It is discernible in the most 
tedious and in the most superficial modern works on 
the early times of Rome. It enlivens the dulness of 
the Universal History, and gives g. charm to the most 
meagre abridgements of Goldsmith. 

Even in the age of Plutarch there were discerni" <; 
men who rejected the popular account of the fou:;- 
dation of Rome, because that account appeared to 
them to have the air, not of a history, but of a ro- 
mance or a drama. Plutarch, who was displeased at 
their incredulity, had nothing to say in reply to their 
arguments than that chance sometimes turns poet, 
and produces trains of events not to be. distinguished 
from the most elaborate plots which are constructed 
by art.* But though the existence of a poetical ele- 

*''T7ro7rrov [lev kvim^ ecTl to Spa/nariKdv Kat TtlaajiaTddeQ- ov 6el de 
amarEiv, ttjv tvxv^ optjvrag, o'luii notTj/idruv Sr/fiiovpyog egti. — Pint. Rom. 
viii. This remarkable passage has been more grossly misinterpreted 
than any other in the Greek language, where the sense was so obvious. 
The Latin version of Cruserius, the French version of Amyot, the old 
English version by several hands, and the later English version by 
Langhorne, are all equally destitute of every trace of the meaning of 
the original. None of the translators saw even that noirjfia is a poem. 
They all render it an event 



lo PREFACE. 

ment in the early history of the Great City was detect 
ed so many years ago, the first critic who distinctly 
saw from what source that poetical element "^ad been 
derived was James Perizonius, one of the most acute 
and learned antiquaries of the seventeenth century. 
His theory, which, in his own days, attracted little or 
no ^notice, was revived in the present generation by 
Niebuhr, a man who would have been the first writer 
of his time, if his talent for communicating truths had 
borne any proportion to his talent for investigating 
them. That theory has been adopted by several 
eminent scholars of our own country, particularly by 
the Bishop of St. David's, by Professor Maiden, and 
by the lamented Arnold. It appears to be now 
generally received by men conversant with classical 
antiquity ; and indeed it rests on such strong proofs, 
both internal and external, that it will not be easily 
subverted. A popular exposition of this theory, and 
of the evidence by which it is supported, may not be 
without interest even for readers v/ho are unacquaint- 
ed with the ancient languages. 

The Latin literature which has come down to us is 
of later date than the commencement of the second 
Punic War, and consists almost exclusively of works 
fashioned on Greek models. The Latin metres, he- 
roic, elegiac, lyric and dramatic, are of Greek origin. 
The best Latin epic poetry is the feeble echo of the 
Iliad and the Odyssey. The best Latin eclogues are 
imitations of Theocritus. The plan of the most fin- 
ished didactic poem in the Latin tongue was taken 
from Hesiod. The Latin tragedies are bad copies 
of the masterpieces of Sophocles and Euripides. The 
Latin comedies are free translations from Demophilus, 



PREFACE. II 

Menander, and ApoUodorus. The Latin philosophy 
was borrowed, without alteration, from the Portico 
and the Academy ; and the great Latin orators con- 
stantly proposed to themselves as patterns the speech- 
es of Demosthenes and Lysias. 

But there was an earlier Latin literature, a litera- 
ture truly Latin, which has wholly perished, which 
had, indeed, almost wholly perished long before those 
whom we are in the habit of regarding as the greatest 
Latin writers were born. That literature abounded 
with metrical romances, such as are found in every 
country where there is much curiosity and intelligence, 
but little reading and writing. All human beir^gs, 
not utterly savage, long for some information about 
past times, and are delighted by narratives which pre- 
sent pictures to the eye of the mind. But it is only 
in very enlightened communities that books are read- 
ily accessible. Metrical composition, therefore, which, 
in a highly civilized nation, is a mere luxury, is, in 
nations imperfectly civilized, almost a necessary of 
life, and is valued less on account of the pleasure Vv'hich 
it gives to the ear, than on account of the help which it 
gives to the memory.- A man who can invent or em- 
bellish an interesting story, and put it into a form 
which others may easily retain in their recollection, 
will be always highly esteemed by a people eager for 
amusement and information, but destitute of libraries. 
Such is the origin of ballad-poetry, a species of com- 
position which scarcely ever fails to spring up and 
flourish in every society, at a certain point in the 
progress towards refinement. Tacitus informs us 
that songs were the only memorials of the past which 
the ancient Germans possessed. We learn from Ln- 



12 PREFACE. 

can and from Ammianus Marcelliniis that the brave 
actions of the ancient Gauls were commemorated in 
the verses of Bards. During many ages, and through 
many revolutions, minstrelsy retained its influence 
over both the Teutonic and the Celtic race. The 
vengeance exacted by the spouse of Attila for the 
the murder of Siegfried was celebrated in rhymes, of 
which Germany is still justly proud. The exploits of 
Athelstane were commemorated by the Anglo-Saxons, 
and those of Canute by the Danes, in rude poems, 
of which a few fragments have come down to us. 
The chants of the Welsh harpers preserved, through 
a^s of darkness, a faint and doubtfiTl memt)ry of Ar- 
thur. In the Highlands of Scotland may still be 
gleaned some relics of the old songs about Cuthullin 
and Fingal. The long struggle of the Servians 
against the Ottoman power was recorded in lays full 
of martial spirit. We learn from Herrera that when 
a Peruvian Inca died, men of skill were appointed to 
celebrate him in verses, which all the people learned 
by heart and Sang in public on days of festival. The 
feats of Kurroglou, the great freebooter of Turkistan, 
recounted in ballads composed by himself, are known 
in every village of Northern Persia. Captain Beechey 
heard the Bards of the Sandwich Islands recite the 
heroic achievements of Tamehamdia, the most illus- 
trious of their kings. Mungo Park found in the 
heart of Africa a class of singing men, the only annal- 
ists of their rude tribes, and heard them tell the story 
of the victory which Darnel, the negro prince of the 
Jaloffs, won over Abdulkader, the Mussulman tyrant 
of Foota Torra. This species of poetry attained a 
high "degree of excellence among the Castilians, be- 



PREFACE. 13 

fore they began to copy Tuscan patterns. It attained 
a still higher degree of excellence among the English 
and the Lowland Scotch, during the fourteenth, fif- 
teenth, and sixteenth centuries. But it reached its 
full perfection in ancient Greece ; for there can be 
no doubt that the great Homeric poems are generic- 
ally ballads, though widely distinguished from all 
other ballads, and indeed from almost all other human 
compositions, by transcendent sublimity and' beauty. 

As it is agreeable to general experience that, at a 
certain stage in the progress of society, ballad poetry 
should flourish, so is it also agreeable to general ex- 
perience that, at a subsequent stage in the progress 
of society, ballad-poetry should be undervalued and 
neglected. Knowledge advances : manners change : 
great foreign models of composition are studied and 
imitated. The phraseology of the old minstrels be- 
comes obsolete. Their versification, which having re- 
ceived its laws only from the ear, abounds in irregular- 
ities, seems licentious and uncouth. Their simplicity 
appears beggarly when compared with the quaint 
forms and gaudy coloring of such artists as Cowley 
and Gongora. The ancient lays, unjustly despised by 
the learned and polite, linger for a time in the memory 
of the vulgar, and are at length too often irretrievably 
lost. We cannot wonder that the ballads of Rome 
should have altogether disappeared, when we remem- 
ber how very narrowly, in spite of the invention 
of printing, those of our own country and those of 
Spain escaped the same fate. . There is indeed little 
doubt that oblivion covers many English songs equal 
to any that were published by Bishop Percy, and many 
Spanish songs as good as the best of those which have 



14 PREFACE. 

been so happily translated by Mr. Lockhart. Eighty 
years ago England possessed only one tattered copy 
of Childe Waters, and Sir Caiiline, and Spain only 
one tattered copy of the noble poem of the Cid. The 
snuff of a candle, or a mischievous dog, might in a 
moment have deprived the world for ever of any of 
those fine compositions. Sir Walter Scott, who united 
to the fire of a great poet the minute curiosity and 
patient diligence of a great antiquary, was but just in 
time to save the precious relics of the Ministrelsy of 
the Border. In Germany, the lay of the Nibelungs 
had been long utterly forgotten, when in the eight- 
eenth century, it was for the first time printed from 
a manuscript in the old library of a noble family. In 
'truth the only people who, through their whole passage 
from simplicity to the highest civilization, never for 
a moment ceased to love and admire their old ballads, 
were the Greeks. 

' That the early Romans should have had ballad- 
poetry, and that this poetry should have perished, is 
therefore not strange. It would, on the contrary, 
have been strange if these things had not come to 
pass ; and we should be justified in pronouncing them 
highly probable, even if we had no direct evidence on 
the subject. But we have direct evidence of unques- 
tionable authority. 

Ennius, who flourished in the time of the Second 
Punic War, was regarded in the Augustan age as 
the father of Latin poetry. He was, in truth, the 
father of the second school of Latin poetry, the only 
school of which the works have descended to us. But 
from Ennius himself we learn that there were poets 
who stood to him in the same relation in which the 



PREFACE. , I J 

author of the romance of Count Alarcos stood to Gar- 
cilaso, or the author of the " Lytell Geste of Robyn 
Hocle " to Lord Surrey. Ennius speaks of verses 
which the Fauns and the Bards were wont to chant 
in the old time, when none had yet studied the graces 
of speech, when none had yet climbed the peaks sacred 
to the Goddesses of Grecian song. "Where," Cicero 
mournfully asks, " are those old verses now t " * 

Contemporary with Ennius was Ouintus Fabius 
Pictor, the earliest of the Roman annalists. His ac- 
count of the infancy and youth of Romulus and Remus 
has been preserved by Dionysius, and contains a very 
remarkable reference to the ancient Latin poetry. 
Fabius says that in his time his countrymen were 
still in the habit of singing ballads about the Twins. 
" Even in the hut of Faustulus," — so these old lays 
appear to have run — " the children of Rhea and Mars 
were, in port and in spirit, not like unto swineherds 



* " Quid ? Nostri veteres versus ubi sunt ? 

' Quos olim Fauni vatesque canebant, 

Cum neque Musarum scopulos quisquam superarat, 

Nee dicti studiosus eiat.' " Brutus, xviii. 

The Muses, it should be observed, are Greek divinities. The Italian 
Goddesses of verse were the Camoenre. At a later period, the 
appellations were used indiscriminately ; but in the age of Ennius there 
was probably a distinction. In the epitaph of Nasvius, who was the 
representative of the old Italian school of poetry, the Camcenae, not 
the Muses, are represented as grieving for the loss of their votary. 
The " Musarum scopuli " are evidently the peaks of Parnassus. 

Scaliger, in a note on Varro [De Lingua Latina, lib. vi.), suggests, 
with great ingenuity, that the Fauns, who were represented by the 
superstition of later ages as a race of monsters, half gods and half 
brutes, may really have been a class of men who exercised in Latium, 
at a very remote period, the same functions which belonged to th« 
Magians in Persia and to the Bards iii Gaul. 



i6 



PREFACE. 



or cowherds, but such that men might well guess 
them to be of the blood of Kings and Gods."* 

* Ot a avdpudefTCC yivovrai, Kara te a^iuoiv fiop^ijq koi (jipov^fiaroi 
oYKOV ov <jvo(f)op(ioig aal (iovKoXoic kocnoTEq, alX' diovg av tiq a^iuaeie 
Tovc EK paoiMiov TE ^vvrac yEVOvg, Kal and 6acfi6vo)v airopac yEveaOai 
voiu(,ofihovq, uQ ev roif Trarpiotg vfimiq vnb 'Fufxaiuv in Kal vvv a^erai. 

/7/(;« //al. i. 79. This passage has sometimes been cited as if 

Dionysius had been speaking in his own person, and had, Greek as he 
was, been so industrious or so fortunate as to discover some valuable 
remains of that early Latin poetry which the greatest Latin writers of 
his age regretted as hopelessly lost. Such a supposition is highly im- 
probable ; and indeed it seems clear from the context that Dionysius, 
as Reiske and other editors evidently thought, was merely quoting 
from Fabius Pictor. The whole passage has the air of an extract from 
an ancient chronicle, and is introduced by the words, Koivroc fiev 4'd/?fof , 
6 n'lKTup Xeyo/iEvog, Ti)6e ypcKpEi. 

Another argument may be urged which seems to deserve considera- 
tion. The author of the passage in question mentions a thatched hut 
which, in his time, stood between the summit of Mount Palatine and 
the Circus. This hut, he says, was built by Romulus, and was con- 
stantly kept in repair at the public charge, but never in any respect 
embellished. Now in the age of Dionysius there certainly was at 
Rome a thatched hut, said to have been that of Romulus. But this 
hut, as we learn from Vitruvius, stood not near the Circus, but in the 
Capitol. ( Fit. ii. i.) If, therefore, we understand Dionysius to speak in 
his own person, we can reconcile his statement with that of Vitruvius 
only by supposing that there were at Rome, in the Augustan age, 
two thatched huts, both believed to have been built by Romulus, and 
both carefully repaired and held in high honor. The objections to 
such a supposition seem to be strong. Neither Dionysius nor Vitru- 
vius speaks of more than one such hut. Dio Cassius informs us that 
tv/ice, during the long administration of Augustus, the hut of Romulus 
caught fire, (xlviii. 43, liv. 29.) Had there beentwosuch huts, would 
he not have told us of which he spoke ? An English historian would 
hardly give an account of a fire at Queen's College without saying 
whether it was at Queen's College, Oxford, or at Queen's College, 
Cambridge. Marcus Seneca, Macrobius, and Conon, a Greek writer 
from whom Photius has made large extracts, mention only one hut of 
Romulus, that in the Capitol. {M. Seneca Contr. i. 6; Macrobim, Sat, 
i. 15 ; F/iotius, Bibl. 186.) Ovi3. Livy, Petronius, Valerius. Maximus, 
Lucius Seneca, and St. Jerome*, mention ornly one hut c^ Romulus, 



PREFACE. - 17 

Cato the Censor, who also lived in the days of the 
Second Punic War, mentioned this lost literature in 
his last work on the antiquities of his country. Many 
ages, he said, before his time, there were ballads in 
praise of illustrious men ; and these ballads it was the 
fashion for the guests at banquets to sing in turn 
while the'piper played. "Would," exclaims Cicero, " that 
we still had the old ballads of which Cato speaks ! " * 

Valerius Maximus gives us exactly similar informa- 
tion without mentioning his authority, and observes 

without specifying the site. (Ovid. Fasti, iii. 183; Liv. v. 53; Petron- 
ius, Fragm. ; Val. Max. iv. 4 ; Z. Seneca, Consolaiio ad Helviam ; D. 
Hieron ad Pauliniamim de Didymo.) 

The whole difficulty is removed, if we suppose that Dionysius was 
merely quoting Fabius Pictor. Nothing is more probable than that the 
cabin, which in the time of Fabius stood near the Circus, might, long 
before the age of Augustus, have been transported to the Capitol, as 
the. place fittest, by reason both of its safety and of its sanctity, to con- 
tain so precious a relic. 

The language of Plutarch confirms this hypothesis. He describes, 
with great precision, the spot where Romulus dwelt, on the slope of 
Mount Palatine leading to the Circus ; but he says not a word imply- 
ing that the dwelling was still to be seen there. Indeed, his expressions 
imply that it was no longer there. The evidence of Solinus is still 
more to the point. He, like Plutarch, describes the spot where Rom- 
ulus had resided, and says expressly that the hut had been there, but 
that in his time it was there no longer. The site, it is certain, was well 
remembered ; and probably retained its old name, as Charing Cross 
and the Haymarket have done. This is probably the explanation of 
the words "casa Romuli," in Victor's description of the tenth Region 
of Rome, under Valentinian. 

* Cicero refers twice to this important passage in Cato's Antiquities : 
— " Gravissimus auctor in Originibus dixit Cato, morem apud majores 
hunc epularum fuisse, ut deinceps, qui accubarent, canerent ad tibiam 
clarorum virorum laudes atque virtutes. Ex quo perspicuum est, et 
cantus tum fuisse rescriptos vocum sonis, et carmina." — Tusc. Quasi. 
iv. 2. Again : " Ulinam exstarent ilia carmina, quae, multis saeculis ante 
suam aetatem in epulis esse cantitata a singulis convivis de clarorum 
virorum laudibus, in Originibus scriptum reliquit Cato." — Brutus, xix. 



^ PREFACE. 

that the ancient Roman ballads were probably of more 
benefit to the young than all the lectures of the Ath- 
enian schools, and that to the influence of the national 
poetry were to be ascribed the virtues of such men as 
Camillus and Fabricius.* 

Varro, whose authority on all questions connected 
with the antiquities of his country is entitled to the 
greatest respect, tells us that at banquets it was once 
the fashion for boys to sing, sometimes with and 
sometimes without instrumental ijiusic, ancient bal- 
lads in praice of men of former times. These young 
performers, he observes, were of unblemished charac- 
ter, a circumstance which he probably mentioned be- 
cause, among the Greeks, and indeed in his time 
among the Romans also, the morals of singing boys 
were in no high repute.f 

The testimony of Horace, though given incidentally 
confirms the statements of Cato, Valerius Maximus, 
and Varro. The poet predicts that, under the peace- 
ful administration of Augustus, the Romans will, over 
their full goblets, sing to the pipe, after the fashion of 
their fathers, the deeds of brave captains and the an- 
cient legends touching the origin of the city. % 

* " Majores natu in conviviis ad tibias egregia superiorum opera 
carmine comprehensa pangebant, quo ad ea imitanda juventutem 

alacriorem redderent Quas Athenas, quam scholam, quae alienigena 

studia huic domesticae disciplinae prsetulerim ? Inde oriebantur Cam- 
illi, Scipiones, Fabricii, Marcelli, Fabii." — Val. Max. ii. i. 

t " In conviviis pueri modesti ut cantarer.t carmina antiqua, in quibus 
laudes erant majorum, et assa voce, et cum tibicine." Nonius, Aisa 
voce pro sola. 

I " Nosque et profestis lucibus et sacris, 

Inter jocosi munera Liberi, 

Cum prole matron^que nostris, 
Rite Decs prius apprecati. 



PREFACE. 



19 



The proposition, then, that Rome had ballad-poetry 
is not merely in itself highly probable, but is fully 
proved by direct evidence of the greatest weight. 

This proposition being established, it becomes easy 
to understand why the early history of the city is 
unlike almost everything else in Latin literature, native 
where almost everything else is borrowed, imaginative 
where almost everything else is prosaic. We can scarce- 
ly hesitate to pronounce that the magnificent, pathetic, 
and truly national legends, which present so striking a 
contrast to all that surrounds them, are broken and 
defaced fragments of that early poetry which, even in 
the age of Cato the Censor, had become antiquated, 
and of which Tully had never heard a line. 

That this poetry should have been suffered to perish 
will not appear strange when we consider how com- 
plete was the triumph of the Greek genius over the 
public mmd of Italy. It is probable that, at an early 
period. Homer and Herodotus furnished some hints 
to the Latin minstrel ; * but it was not till after the 
war with Pyrrhus that the poetry of Rome began to 
put off its old Ausonian character. The transforma- 
tion was soon consummated. The conquered, says 
Horace, l^d captive the conquerors. It was precisely 
at the time at which the Roman people rose to unrivall- 
ed political ascendancy that they stooped to pass 
under the intellectual yoke. It was precisely at the 
time at which the sceptre departed from Greece that 

Virtute functos, more patrum, duces, 
Lydis remixto carmine tibiis, 

Trojamque, et Anchisen, etalraa; 
Progeniem Veneris canemus." 
• Carm. iv. 15. 

* See the Preface to the Lay of the Battle of Regillus. 



20 PREFACE. 

the empire of her language and of her arts became uni- 
versal and despotic. The revolution indeed was not 
effected without a struggle. Naevius seems to have 
been the last of the ancient line of poets. Ennius 
was the founder of a new dynasty. Naevius cele- 
brated the First Punic War in Saturnian verse, the 
old national verse of Italy.* Ennius sang the Second 

* Cicero speaks highly in more than one place of this poem of 
Naevius ; Ennius sneered at it, and stole from it. 

As to the Saturnian measure, see Hermann's Elementa Doctrince, 
MetriccE, iii. 9. 

The Saturnian line, according to the grammarians, consisted of two 
parts. The first was a catalectic dimeter iambic; the second was 
composed of three trochees. But the license taken by the early Latin 
poets seems to have been almost boundless. The most perfect Saturn- 
ian line which has been preserved was the work, not of a professional 
artist, but of an amateur : 

" Dabunt malum Metelli Naevio poetae." 

There has been much difference of opinion among leaiSied men re- 
specting the historyujf his measure. That it is the same with a Greek 
measure used by Archilochus is indisputable. [Bentley, Phalaris, xi.) 
But in spite of the authority of Terantianus Maurus, and of the still 
higher authority of Bentley, we may venture to doubt whether the 
coincidence was not fortuitous. We constantly find the same rude and 
simple numbers in different countries, under circumstances which make 
it impossible to suspect that there has been imitation on either side. 
Bishop Heber heard the children of a village in Bengal singing " Radha, 
Radha," to the tune of " My boy Billy." Neither the Castilian nor the 
German minstrels of the middle ages owed anything to Paros or to 
nncient Rome. Yet both the Cid and the poem of the Nibelungs con- 
tain many Saturnian verses; as, — 

" Estas nuevas k raio Cid eran venidas." 

" A mi lo dicen ; 4 ti dan las orejadas." 

" Man mohte michel wunder von Sifrlde sagen. 

" Wa ich den Kflnic vinde daz sol man mir sagen." 

Indeed, there cannot be a more perfect Saturnian line than one whick 
is sung in every English nursery — 

" The queen was in her parlor eating bread and honey ; " 



PREFACE. - 21 

Punic War in numbers borrowed from the I]iad. The 
elder poet, in the epitaph which he wrote for himself, 
and which is a fine specimen of the early Roman die- 
yet the author of this line, we may be assured, borrowed nothing from 
cither Naevius or Archilochus. 

On the other hand, it is by no means improbable that, two or three 
hundred yeai* -before the time of Ennius, some Latin minstrel may 
have visited Sfljaris or Crotona, may have heard some verses of Arch- 
ilochus sung, may have been pleased with the metre, and may have 
introduced it at Rome. Thus much is certain, that the Saturnian meas- 
ure, if not a native of Italy, was at least so early and so completely 
naturalized there that its foreign origin was forgotten. 

Bentley says indeed that the Saturnian measure was first brought from 
Greece into Italy by Naevius. But this is merely odiier dictum, to use 
a phrase common in our courts of law, and would not have been de- 
liberately maintained by the incomparable critic, whose memory is 
held in reverence by all lovers of learning. The arguments which 
might be brought against Bentley's assertion — for it is mere assertion, 
supported by lio evidence — are innumerable. A few will suffice. 

1. Bentley's assertion is opposed to the testimony of Ennius. Ennius 
sneered at Na:vius for writing on the First Punic War in verses such as 
the old Italian Bards used before Greek literature had been studied- 
Now the poem of Naevius was in Saturnian verse. Is it possible that 
Ennius could have used such expressions, if the Saturnian verse had 
been just imported from Greece for the first time ? 

2. Bentley's assertion is opposed to the testimony of Horace. 
"When Greece," says Horace, " introduced her arts into oirr uncivilized 
country, those rugged Saturnian numbers passed away." Would Horace 
have said this, if the Saturnian numbers had been imported from Greece 
just before the hexameter ? 

3. Bentley's assertion is opposed to the testimony of Festus and of 
Aurelius Victor, both of whom positively say that the most ancient 
prophecies attributed to the Fauns were in Saturnian verse. 

4. Bentley's assertion is opposed to the testimony of Terentianus 
Maurus. to whom he has himself appealed- Terentianus Maurus does 
indeed say that the Saturnian measure, though believed by the Romans 
from a very early period (" credidit vetustas") tobe of Italian invention, 
was really borrowed from the Greeks. But Terentianus Maurus does 
not say that it was first borrowed by NiEvius. Nay, the expression 
used by Terentianus Maurus clearly imply the contrary; for how 
coulr* the Romans have believed, from a very-early period, that this 



22 PREFACE. 

tion and versification, plaintively boasted that the 
Latin language had died with him.* Thus what 
to Horace appeared to be the first faint dawn of 
Roman literature, appeared to NaDvius to be its hope- 
less setting. In truth, one literature was setting, and 
another dawning. 

The victory of the foreign taste was decisive ; and 
indeed we can hardly blame the Romans for turning 
away with contempt from the rude lays which had de- 
lighted their fathers, and giving their whole admiration 
to the immortal productions of Greece. The national 
romances, neglected by the great and the refined whose 
education had been finished at Rhodes or Athens, con- 
tinued, it may be supposed, during some generations 
to delight the vulgar. While Virgil, in hexame<"ers 
of exquisite modulation, described the sports of rustics, 
those rustics were still singing their wild Saturnian 
ballads.f It is not improbable that, at the time when 
Cicero lamented the irreparable loss of the poems men- 
tioned by Cato, a search among the nooks of the Apenn- 
ines, as active as the search which Sir Walter Scott 
made among the descendants of the moss-troopers of 
Liddesdale might have brought to light many fine 
remains of ancient minstrelsy. No such search was 
made. The Latin ballads perished for ever. Yet dis- 

mcasure was the indigenous prodriction of Latium, if it was really 
brought over from Greece in an age of intelligence and liberal curiosity, 
in the age which gave birth to Ennius, Plautus, Cato the Censor, and 
other distinguished writers ? If Bentley's assWtion were correct, there 
could have been no more doubt at Rome about the Greek origin of th© 
Saturnian measure than about the Greek origin of hexameters Ctf 
Sapphics. 

* Aulas Gellius, Noctes Atticae, i. 24. 

t See Servius, in Georg. ii. 385. 



PREFACE. 23 

cerning critics have thought that they could still per- 
ceive in the early history of Rome numerous fragments 
of this lost poetry, as the traveller on classic ground 
sometimes finds, built into the heavy wall of a fort or 
convent, a pillar rich with acanthus leaves, or a frieze 
where the Amazons and Bacchanals seem to live. 
The theatres and temples of the Greek and the Roman 
were degraded into the quarries of the Turk and the 
Goth. 'Even so did the ancient Saturnian poetry be- 
come the quarry in which a crowd of orators and an- 
nalists found the materials for their prose. 

It is not difficult to trace the process by which the 
old songs were transmuted into the form which they 
now wear. Funeral panegyric and chronicle appear 
to have been the intermediate links which connected 
the lost ballads with the histories now extant. From a 
very early period it was the usage that an oration 
should be pronounced over the remains of a noble 
Roman. The orator, as we learn from Polybius, was 
expected on such an occasion to recapitulate all the 
services which the ancestors of the deceased had, from 
the earliest time, rendered to the commonwealth. 
There can be little doubt that the speaker on whom 
this duty was imposed, would make use of all the 
stories suited to his purpose which were to be found 
in the popular lays. There can be as Httle doubt that 
the family of an eminent man would preserve a copy 
of the speech which had been pronounced over his 
corpse. The compilers of the early chronicles would 
have recourse to the speeches ; and the great historians 
of a later period would have recourse to the chron- 
icles. 

It may be worth while to select a particular story, 



24 P-REFACE. 

and to trace its probable progress through these stages. 
The description of the migration of the Fabian house 
to Cremera is one of the finest of the many fine pas- 
sages which lie thick in the earlier books of Livy. 
The Consul, clad in his military garb, stands in the 
vestibule of his house, marshalling his clan, three 
hundred and six fighting men, all of the proud patri- 
cian blood, all worthy to be attended by the fasces, and 
to command the legions. A sad and anxious retinue 
of friends accompanies the adventurers through the 
streets ; but the voice of lamentation is drowned by 
the shouts of admiring thousands. As the procession 
passes the Capitol, prayer and vows are poured forth, 
but in vain. The devoted band, leaving Janus on the 
right, marches to its doom through the Gate of Evil 
Luck. After achieving high deeds of valor against 
overwhelming numbers, all perished save one child, 
the stock from which the great Fabian race was des- 
tined again to spring for the safety and glory of the 
commonwealth. That, this fine romance, the details 
of which are so full of poetical truth, and so utterly 
destitute of all show of historical truth, came origin- 
ally from some lay which had often been sung with 
great applause at banquets, is in the highest degree 
probable. Nor is it difficult to imagine a mode in 
which the transmission might have taken place. The 
celebrated Quintus Fabius Maximus, who died about 
twenty years before the First Punic War, and more 
than forty years before Ennius was born, is said to 
have been interred with extraordinary pomp. In the 
eulogy pronounced over his body all the great exploits 
of his ancestors were doubtless recounted and exag- 
gerated. If there were then extant songs which gave 



PREFACE. 



25 



a vivid and touching description of an event, the sad- 
dest and the most glorious in the long history of the 
Fabian house, nothing could be more natural than that 
the panegyrist should borrow from such songs their 
finest touches, in order to adorn his speech. A few gen- 
erations later the songs would perhaps be forgotten, or 
remembered only by the shepherds and vine-dressers. 
But the speech would certainly be preserved in the 
archives of the Fabian nobles. Fabius Pictor would 
be well acquainted with a document so interesting to 
his personal feelings, and would insert large extracts 
from it in his rude chronicle. That chronicle, as we 
know, was the oldest to which Livy had access. Livy 
would at a glance distinguish the bold strokes of the 
forgotten poet from the dull and feeble narrative by 
which they were surrounded, would retouch them 
with delicate and powerful pencil, and would make 
them immortal. 

That this . might happen at Rome can scarcely be 
doubted ; for something very like this has happened 
in several countries, and, among others, in our own. 
Perhaps the theory of Perizonius cannot be better 
illustrated than by showing that what he supposes 
to have taken place in ancient times has, beyond 
all doubt, taken place in modern times. 

" History," says Hume, with the utmost gravity, " has 
preserved some instances of Edgar's amours, from 
which, as a specimen, we may form a conjecture of 
the rest." He then tells very agreeably the stories of 
Elfleda and Elfrida, two stories which have a most 
suspicious air of romance, and which, indeed, greatly 
resemble, in their general character, some of the le- 
gends of early Rome. He cites, as his authority for 



26 PREFACE. 

those two tales, the chronicles of William of Malmes- 
bury, who lived in the time of King Stephen. The 
great majority of readers suppose that the device by 
which Elfrida was substituted for her young mis- 
tress, the artifice by which Athelwold obtained the 
hand of Elfrida, the detection of that artifice, the 
hunting party, and the vengeance of the amorous king, 
are things about which there is no more doubt than 
about the execution of Anne Boleyn, or the slitting of 
Sir John Coventry's nose. But when we turn to 
William of Malmesbury, we find J:hat Hume, in his 
eagerness to relate these pleasant fables, has overlook- 
ed one very important circumstance. William does 
indeed tell both the stories ; but he gives us dis- 
tinct notice that he does not warrant their truth, and 
that they rest on no better authority than that of bal- 
lads.* 

Such is the way in which these two well-known 
tales have been handed down. They originally ap- 
peared in a poetical form. They found their way from 
ballads into an old chronicle. The ballads perished : 
the chronicle remained. A great historian, some cen- 
turies after the ballads had been altogether forgotten, 
consulted the chronicle. He was struck by the lively 
coloring of these ancient fictions ; he transferred 
them to his pages ; and thus we find inserted, as un- 
questionable facts, in a narrative which, is likely to 
last as long as the English tongue, the inventions of 
some minstrel whose works were probably never com- 

* " Infamias quas post dicam magis resperserunt cantilen^." Edgar 
appears to have been most mercilessly treated in Anglo-Saxon ballads. 
He was the favorite of the monks ; and the monks and the minstrels 
were at deadly feud. 



PREFACE. 



27 



mitted to writing, whose name is buried in oblivion, 
and whose dialect has become obsolete. It must, then, 
be admitted to be possible, or rather highly probable, 
that the stories of Romulus and Remus, and of 
the Horatii and Curiatii, may have had a similar 
origin. 

Castilian literature will furnish us with another 
parallel case. Mariana, the classical historian of 
Spain, tells the story of the ill-starred marriage which 
the King Don Alonso brought about between the 
heirs of Carrion and the two daughters of the Cid. 
The Cid bestov/ed a princely dower on his sons-in-law. 
But the young men were base and proud, cowardly 
and cruel. They were tried in danger and found 
wanting. They fled before the Moors, and once when a 
lion broke out of his cien, they ran and crouched in an 
unseemly hiding-place. They knew that they were de- 
spised, and took counsel how they might be avenged. 
They parted from their father-in-law with many 
signs of love, and set forth on a journey with Dona 
Elvira and Dona Sol. In a solitary place the bride- 
grooms seized their brides, stripped them, scourged 
them, and departed, leaving them for dead. But one 
of the house of Bivar, suspecting foul play, had 
followed the travellers in disguise. The ladies were 
brought back safe to the house of their father. Com- 
plaint was made to the king. It was adjudged by the 
Cortes that the dower given by the Cid should be 
returned, and that the heirs of Carrion together with 
one of their kindred should do battle against three 
knights of the party of the Cid. The guilty youths 
would have declined the combat ; but all their shifts 
were vain. They were vanquished in the lists, and 



28 PREFACE. 

for ever disgraced, while their injured wives were 
sought in marriage by great princes.* 

Some Spanish writers have labored to show, by an 
examination of dates and circumstances, that this 
story is untrue. Such confutation was surely not 
needed ; for the narrative is on the face of it a 
romance. How it found its way into Mariana's history 
is quite clear. He acknowledges his obligations to 
the ancient chronicles ; and had doubtless before him 
the " Chronica del famoso Cavallero Cid Ruy Diez 
Campeador," which had been printed as early as the 
year 1552. He little suspected that all the most 
striking passages in this chronicle were copied from 
a poem of the twelfth century, a poem of which the' 
language and versification had long been obsolete, but 
which glowed with no common portion of the fire of 
the Iliad. Yet such was the fact. More than a 
century and a half after the death of Mariana, this 
venerable ballad, of which one imperfect copy on 
parchment, four hundred years old, had been pre- 
served at Bivar, was for the first time printed. Then 
it was found that every interesting circumstance of 
the story of the heirs of Carrion was derived by the 
eloquent Jesuit from a song of which he had never 
heard, and which was composed by a minstrel whose 
very name had long been forgotten.f 

Such, or nearly such, appears to have been the 
process by which the lost ballad-poetry of Rome was 

Mariana, lib. x. cap. 4. 
t See the account wliich Sanchez gives of the Bivar mannscript in 
the first volume of the Coleccion de Poesias Castellanas anteriores al 
Siglo XV. Part of the story of the lords of Carrion, in the poem of 
the Cid, has been translated by Mr. Frere in a manner above all 
praise. 



PREFACE. 



29 



transformed into history. To reverse that process, 
to transform some portions of early Roman history 
back into the poetry out of whicli they were made, is 
the object of this work. 

In the following poems the author speaks, not in 
his own person, but in the persons of ancient minstrels 
who know only what a Roman citizen, born three or 
four hundred years before the Christian era, may be 
supposed to have known, and who are in nowise 
above the passions and prejudices of their age and 
nation. To these imaginary poets must be ascribed 
some blunders which are so obvious that it is unneces- 
sary to point them out. The real blunder would have 
been to represent these old poets as deeply versed in 
general history, and studious of chronological accuracy. 
To them must also be attributed the illiberal sneers 
at the Greeks, the furious party-spirit, the contempt 
for the arts of peace, the love of war for its own sake, 
the ungenerous exultation over the vanquished, which 
the reader will sometimes observe. To portray a 
Roman of the age of Camillus or Curius as superior 
to national antipathies, as mourning over the devasta- 
tion and slaughter by which empire and triumphs 
were to be won, as looking on human suffering with 
the sympathy of Howard, or as treating conquered 
enemies with the delicacy of the Black Prince, would 
be to violate all dramatic propriety. The old Romans 
had some great virtues, fortitude, temperance, veracity, 
spirit to resist oppression, respect for legitimate au- 
thority, fidelity in the observing of contracts, disinter- 
estedness, ardent patriotism ; but Christian charity 
and chivalrous generosity were alike unknown to 
them. 



V 

30 PREFA CE. 

It would have been obviously improper to mimic 
the manner of any particular age or country. Some- 
thing has been borrowed, however, from our own old 
ballads, and more from Sir Walter Scott, the great 
restorer of our ballad-poetry. To the Iliad still greater 
obligations are due ; and those obligations have been 
contracted with the less hesitation, because there is 
reason to believe that some of the old Latin minstrels 
really had recourse to that inexhaustible store of 
poetical images. 

It would have been easy to swell this little volume 
to a very considerable bulk, by appending notes filled 
with quotations ; but to a learned reader such notes 
are not necessary ; for an unlearned reader they 
would have little interest ; and the judgment passed 
both by the learned and by the unlearned on a work 
of the imagination will always depend much more on 
the general character and spirit of such a work than 
on minute details. 



^m 




1 ' J^f ^v/V^-^ 


^ 


^81^ 


1 



HORATIUS. 



There can be little doubt that among those parts of early 
Roman history which had a poetical origin was the legend 
of Horatius Codes. We have several versions of the story, 
, and these versions differ from each other in points of no 
small importance. Polybius, there is no reason to believe, 
heard the tale recited over the remains of some Consul or 
Praetor descended from the old Horatian patricians ; for he 
introduces it as a specimen of the narratives with which 
the Romans were in the habit of embellishing their 
funeral oratory. It is remarkable that, according to him, 
Horatius defended the bridge alone, and perished in the 
waters. According to the chronicles which Livy and 
Dionysius followed, Horatius had two companions, swam 
safe to shore, and was loaded with honors and rewards. 

These discrepancies are easily explained. Our own 
literature, indeed, will furnish an exact parallel to what 
may have taken place at Rome. It is highly probable that 
the memory of the war of Porsena was preserved by com- 
positions much resembling the two ballads which stand first 
in the Relics of Ancient English Poetry. In both those bal- 
lads the English, commanded by the Percy, fight with the 
Scots, commanded by the Douglas. In one of the ballads 
the Douglas is killed by a nameless English archer, and the 
Percy by a Scottish spearman :'in the other, the Percy slays 
the Douglas in a single combat and is himself made pris- 



32 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

oner. In the former, Sir Hugh Montgomery is shot through 
the heart by a Northumbrian bowman : in the latter, he is 
taken and exchanged for the Percy. Yet both the ballads 
relate to the same event, and that an event which probably 
took place within the memory of persons who were alive 
when both the ballads were made. One of the minstrels 
says : 

" Old men that knowen the grounde well yenoughe 
Call it the battell of Otterbuni : 
At Otterburn began this spurne 
Upon a monnyn day. 
Ther was the dougghte Doglas slean : 
The Perse never went away." 

The other poet sums up the event in the following lines : * 

" Thys fraye bygan at Otterborne • 
Bytwene the nyghte and the day : 
Ther the Dowglas lost hys lyfe, 
And the Percy was lede away." 

It is by no means unlikely that there were two old Roman 
lays about the defence of the bridge ; and that while the 
story which Livy has transmitted to us was preferred by 
the multitude, the other, which ascribed the whole glory to 
Horatius alone, may have been the favorite with the Ho- 
ratian house. 

The following ballad is supposed to have been made 
about a hundred and twenty years after the war which it 
celebrates, and just before the taking of Rome by the 
Gauls. The author seems to have been an honest citizen, ■ 
proud of the military glory of his country, sick of the dis- 
putes of factions, and much given to pining after good old 
times which had never really existed. The allusion, how- 
ever, to the partial manner in which the public lands were 
allotted could proceed only from a plebeian ; and the al- 
lusion to the fraudulent sale of spoils marks the date of the 



MORA TIUS. 



33 



poem, and shows that the poet shared in the general dis- 
content with which the proceedings of Camillus, after the 
taking of Veii, were regarded. 

The penultimate syllable of the name Porsena has been 
shortened in spite of the authority of Niebuhr, who pro- 
nounces, without assigning any ground for his opinion, 
that Martial was guilty hi a decided blunder in the line, 

" Hanc spectare manum Porsena non potuit." 

It is not easy to understand how any modern scholar, 
whatever his attainments may be, — and those of Niebuhr 
were undoubtedly immense, — can venture to pronounce 
that Martial did not know the quantity of a word which he 
must have uttered and heard uttered a hundred times be- 
fore he left school. Niebuhr seems also to have forgotten 
that Martial has fellow-culprits to keep him in countenance. 
Horace has committed the same decided blunder ; for he 
gives us, as a pure iambic line, 

" Minacis aut Etrusca Porsenns manus." 

Silius Italicus has repeatedly offended in the same way, as 
when he says, 

" Cernitur effugiens ardentem Porsena dextram : " 

and again, 

" Clusinum valgus, cum, Porsena magne, jubebas." 

A modern writer may be content to err in such company. 
Niebuhr's supposition that each of the three defenders 
of the bridge was the representative of one of the three pa- 
trician tribes is both ingenious and probable, and has been 
adopted in the following poem, 

3 





M 


^ 


^K^^ 


^^^ 


BiHSrS^nn 


^ 


^m 


^^J 


^^^^M 



HORATIUS. 



A LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCLX. 



I. 

Lars Porsena of Clusium 

By the Nine Gods he swore 
That the great house of Tarquin 

Should suffer wrong no more. 
By the Nine Gods he swore it, 

And named a trysting day, 
And bade his messengers ride forth, 
East and west and south and north, 

To summon his array. 

II. 
East and west and south and north 

The messengers ride fast. 
And tower and town and cottage 

Have«heard the trumpet's blast. 
Shame on the false Etruscan 

Who lingers in his home. 
When Porsena of Clusium 

Is on the march for Rome. 



HOKA TIUS. 35 

ni. 
The horsemen and the footmen 

Are pouring in amain 
From many a stately market-place ; 

From many a fruitful plain ; 
From many a lonely hamlet. 

Which, hid by beech and pine. 
Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest 

Of purple Apennine ; 

IV, 

From lordly Volaterrae, 

Where scowls the far-famed hold 
Piled by the hands of giants 

For godlike kings of old ; 
From seagirt Populonia, 

Whose sentinels descry 
Sardinia's snowy mountam-tops 

Fringing the southern sky ; 

V- 

From the proud mart of Pisae, 

Queen of the western waves. 
Where ride Massiiia's triremes 

Heavy with fair-haired slaves ; 
From where sweet Clanis wanders 

Through corn and vines and flowers ; 
From where Cortona lifts to heaven 

Her diadena of towers. 

VL 

Tall are the oaks whose acorns 

Drop in dark Auser's rill ; 
Fat are the stags that champ the boughs 

Of the Cirainian hill ; 



^6 LAVS OF AIVCIENT ROME. 

Beyond all streams Clitumnus 

Is to the herdsman dear ; 
Best of all pools the fowler loves 
. The great Volsinian mere. 

VII. 

But now no stroke of woodman 

Is heard by Auser's rill ; 
No hunter tracks the stag's green path 

Up the Ciminian hill ; 
Unwatched along Clitumnus 

Grazes the milk-white steer ; 
Unharmed the water fowl may dip 

In the Volsinian mere. 

VIII. 

The harvests of Arretium, 

This year, old men shall reap, 
Thrs year, young boys in Umbro 

Shall plunge the struggling sheep ; 
And in the vats of Luna, 

This year, the must shall foam 
Round the white feet of laughing girls 

Whose sires have marched to Rome. 

IX. 

There be thirty chosen prophets, 

The wisest of the land. 
Who alway by Lars Porsena 

Both morn and evening stand : 
Evening and morn the Thirty 

Have turned the verses o'er, 
Traced from the right on linen white 

By mighty seers of yore. 



JiORATIUS. 
X. 

And with one voice the Thirty- 
Have their glad answer given : 

"Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena ; 
Go forth, beloved of Heaven : 

Go, and return in glory 
To Clusium's royal dome ; 

And hang round Nurscia's altars 
The golden shields of Rome." 

XL 

And now hath every city 

Sent up her tale of men ; 
The foot are fourscore thousand. 

The horse are thousands ten. 
Before the gates of Sutrium 

Is met the great array. 
A proud man was Lars Porsena 

Upon this trysting day, 

XII. 

For all the Etruscan armies 

Were ranged beneath his eye. 
And many a banished Roman, 

And many a stout ally ; 
And with a mighty following 

To join the muster came 
The Tusculan Mamilius, 

Prince of the Latian name. 

XIII. 

But by the yellow Tiber 

Was tumult and affright : 
From all the spacious champaign 

To Rome men took their flight- 



38 LA VS or ANCIENT ROME. 

A mile around the city. 

The throng stopped up the way»^ 
A fearful sight it was to see 

Through two long nights and days. 

XIV. 

For aged folks on crutches. 

And women great with child, 
And mothers sobbing over babes 

That clung to them and smiled. 
And sick men borne in litters 

High on the necks of slaves. 
And troops of sun-burned husbandmen 

With reaping-hooks and staves, 

XV. 

And droves of mules and asses 

Laden with skins of wine, 
And endless flocks of goats and sheepy 

And endless herds of kine. 
And endless trains of wagons 

That creaked beneath the weight 
Of corn-sacks and of household goods. 

Choked every roaring gate. 

XVI. 

Now, from the rock Tarpeian, 
Could the wan burghers spy 

The line of blazing villages 
Red in the midnight sky. 

The Fathers of the City, 
They sat all night and day, 

For every hour some horseman came 
^ With tidings of dismay. 



MORA TI us. 

• XVII. 

To eastward and to westward 

Have spread the Tuscan bands; 
Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote 

In Crustumerium stands. 
Verbenna down to Ostia 

Hath wasted all the plain ; 
Astur hath stormed Janiculum, 

And the stout guards are slain. 

XVIII, 

I wis, in all the Senate, 

There was no heart so bold. 
But sore it ached, and fast it beat, 

When that ill news was told. 
Forthwith up rose the Consul, 

Up rose the Fathers all , 
In haste they girded up their gowns, 

And hied them to the wall. 

XIX. 

They held a council standing 

Before the River-Gate ; 
Short time was there, ye well may guess, 

For musing or debate. 
Out spake the Consul roundly : 

" The bridge must straight go down ; 
For, since Janiculum is lost, 

Nought else can save the town." 

XX. 

Just then a scout came flying, 
All wild with haste and fear : 
"To arms ! to arms ! Sir Consul : 
Lars Porsena is here." 



39 



40 



LA Y^S OF ANCIENT ROME. 

On the low hills to westward » 

The Consul fixed his eye, 
And saw the swarthy storm of dust, 

Rise fast along the sky, 

XXI. 

And nearer fast and nearer 

Doth the red whirlwind come ; 
And louder still and still more loud, 
From underneath that rolling cloud, 
Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, 

The trampling, and the hum. 
And plainly and more plainly 

Now through the gloom appears. 
Far to left and far to right, 
In broken gleams of dark-blue light, 
The long array of helmets bright, 

The long array of spears. 

XXII. 

And plainly and more plainly, 

Above that glimmering line. 
Now might ye see the banners 

Of twelve fair cities shine ; 
But the banner of proud Clusiura 

Was highest of them all, 
The terror of the Umbrian, 

The terror of the Gaul. 

XXIII. 

And plainly and more plainly 
Now might the burghers know. 

By port and vest, by horse and crest, 
Each warlike Lucumo. 



HORA TIUS. ^, 

There Cilnius of Arretium 

On his fleet roan was seen ; 
And Astur of the four-fold shield, 
Girt with the brand none else may wield, 
Tolumnius with the belt of gold, 
And dark Verbenna from the hold 

By reedy Thrasymene. 

XXIV. 

Fast by the royal standard, 

O'erlooking all the war, 
Lars Porsena of Clusium 

Sat in his ivory car. 
By the right wheel rode Mamilius, 

Prince of the Latian name ; 
And by the left false Sextus, 

That wrought the deed of shame. 

XXV. 

But when the face of Sextus 

Was seen among the foes, 
A yell that rent the firmament 

From all the town arose. 
On the house-tops was no woman 

But spat towards him and hissed. 
No child but screamed out curses. 

And shook its little fisL 

XXVI. 

But the Consul's brow was sad. 
And the Consul's speech was low. 

And darkly looked he at the wall, 
And darkly at the foe. 



LA YS OF ANCIENT IWME. 

" Their van will be upon us 
Before the bridge goes down ; 

And if they once may win the bridge, 
What hope to save the town ? " 

XXVII. 

Then out spake brave Horatius, 

The Captain of the Gate : 
" To every man upon this earth 

Death cometh soon or late. 
And how can man tlie better 

Than facing fearful odds, 
For the ashes of his fathers, 

And the temples of his Gods, 

XXVIII. 

" And for the tender mother 

Who dandled him to rest, 
And for the wife who nurses 

His baby at her breast, 
And for the holy maidens 

Who feed the eternal flame, 
To save them from false Sextus 

That wrought the deed of shame ? 

XXIX. 

" Hew down the bridge. Sir Consul, 

With all the speed ye may ; 
I, with two more to help me. 

Will hold the foe in play. 
In yon strait path a thousand 

May well be stopped by three. 
Now who will stand on either hand, 

And keep the bridge with me .'' " 



HO RATI us 43 

XXX. 

Then out spake Spurius Lartius ; 

A Ramnian proud was he : 
" Lo, I will stand at thy right hand. 

And keep the bridge with thee." 
And out spake strong Herminius 

Of Titian blood was he : 
** I will abide on thy left side, 

And keep the bridge with thee." 

XXXI. 

•' Horatius," quoth the Consul, 

" As thou sayest, so let it be." 
And straight against that great array 

Forth went the dauntless Three. 
For Romans in Rome's quarrel 

Spared neither land nor gold, 
Nor son, nor wife, nor limb, nor life, 

In the brave days of old. 

XXXII. 

Then none was for a party ; 

Then all were for the state ; 
Then the great man helped the poor. 

And the poor man loved the great ; 
Then lands were fairly portioned ; 

Then spoils were fairly sold : 
The Romans were like brothers 

In the brave days of old. 

xxxur. 
Now Roman is to Roman 

More hateful than a foe, 
And the Tribunes beard the high, 

And the Fathers grind the low 



44 



LA VS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

As we wax hot in faction, 

In battle we wax cold : 
Wherefore men fight not as they fought 

In the brave days of old. 

XXXIV. 

Now while the Three were tightening 

Their harness on their backs, 
The Consul was the foremost man 

To take in hand an axe : 
And Fathers mixed with Commons 

Seized hatchet, bar, and crow, 
And smote upon the planks above, 

And loosed the props below. 

XXXV. 

Meanwhile the Tuscan army, 

Right glorious to behold. 
Came flashing back the noonday light, 
Rank behind rank, like surges bright 

Of a broad sea of gold. 
Four hundred trumpets sounded 

A peal of warlike glee, 
As that great host, with measured tread, 
And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, 
Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head* 

Where stood the dauntless Three. 

XXXVI. 

The Three stood calm and silent, 

And looked upon the foes, 
And a great shout of laughter 

From all the vanguard rose ; . 



HORATIUS. 45 

And forth three chiefs came spurring 

Before that deep array ; 
To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, 
And hfted high their shields, and flew 

To win the narrow way ; 

XXXVII. 

Aunus from green Tifernum, 

Lord of the Hill of Vines ; 
And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves 

Sicken in Ilva's mines ; 
And Picus, long to Clusium 

Vassal in peace and war. 
Who led to fight his Umbrian powers 
From that grey crag where, girt with towers, 
The fortress of Nequinum lowers 

O'er the pale waves of Nar. 

XXXVIII. 

Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus 

Into the stream beneath : 
Herminius struck at Seius, 

And clove him to the teeth : 
At Picus brave Horatius 

Darted one fiery thrust ; 
And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms 

Clashed in the bloody dust. 

XXXIX. 

Then Ocnus of Falerii 

Rushed on the Roman Three ; 
And Lausulus of Urgo, 

The rover of. the sea ; . 



^5 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

And Aruns of Volsinium, 

Who slew the great wild boar, 
The great wild boar that had his den 
Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen, 
And wasted fields, and slaughtered men, 
Along Albinia's shore. 

XL. 

Herminius smote down Aruns : 

Lartius laid Ocnus low : 
Right to the heart of Lausulus 

Horatius sent a blow. 
" Lie there," he cried, " fell pirate ! 

No more, aghast and pale, 
From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark 
The track of thy destroying bark. 
No more Campania's hinds shall fly 
To woods and caverns when they spy 

Thy thrice accursed sail." 

XLI. 

But now no sound of laughter 

Was heard among the foes. 
A wild and wrathful clamor 

From all the vanguard rose. 
Six spears' lengths from the entrance 

Halted that deep array. 
And for a space no man came forth 

To win the narrow way. 

XLII. 

But hark ! the cry is Astur ; 

And lo ! the ranks divide ; 
And the great Lord of Luna 

Comes with his stately stride. 



HORA TIUS, 47 

Upon his ample shoulders 

Clangs loud the fourfold shield 
And in his hand he shakes the brand 

Which none but he can wield. 

XLIII. 

He smiled on those bold Romans 

A smile serene and high ; 
He eyed the flinching Tuscans, 

And scorn was in his eye. 
Quoth he, " The she-wolf's litter 

Stand savagely at bay : 
But will ye dare to follow, 

If Astur clears the way ? " 

XLIV. 

Then, whirling up his broadsword 

With both hands to the height. 
He rushed against Horatius, 

And smote with all his might. 
With shield and blade Horatius 

Right deftly turned the blow. 
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh ; 
It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh : 
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry 

To see the red blood flow. 

XLV. 

He reeled, and on Herminius 

He leaned one breathing-space ; 
Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds, 

Sprang right at Astur's face. 
Through teeth, and skull, and helmet 

So fierce a thrust he sped, 
The good sword stood a hand-breadth out 

Behind the Tuscan's head. 



4g LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME, 

XLVI. 
And the great Lord of Luna 
Fell at that deadly stroke, 
As falls on Mount Alvemus 

A thunder-smitten oak. 
Far o'er the crashing forest 

The giant arms lie spread ; 
And the pale augurs, muttering low. 
Gaze on the blasted head. 

XLVII, 

On Astur's throat Horatius 

Right firmly pressed his heel, 
And thrice and four times tugged amain. 

Ere he wrenched out the steel. 
" And see," he cried, " the welcome, 

Fair guests, that waits you here ! 
What noble Lucumo comes next 

To taste our Roman cheer ? " 

XLVIII. 

But at his haughty challenge 

A sullen murmur ran, 
Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread, 

Along that glittering van. 
There lacked not men of prowess, 

Nor men of lordly race ; 
For all Etruria's noblest 

Were round the fatal place. 

XLIX. 

But all Etruria's noblest 
Felt their hearts sink to see 

On the earth the bloody corpses, 
In the path the dauntless Three. 



HORA TILTS. 

And from the ghastly entrance 

Where those bold Romans stood, 
All shrank, like boys who unaware, 
Ranging the woods to start a hare, 
Come to the mouth of the dark lair 
Where, growling low, a fierce old bear 
Lies amidst bones and blood. 

L 

Was none who would be foremost 

To lead such dire attack : 
But those behind cried " Forward ! " 

And those before cried, " Back { '* 
And backward now and forward 

Wavers the deep array ; 
And on the tossing sea of steel, 
To and fro the standards reel ; 
And the victorious trumpet-peal 

Dies fitfully away. 

LI. 

Yet one man for one moment 

Stood out before the crowd ; 
Well known was he to all the Three, 

And they gave him greeting loud. 
** Now welcome, welcome, Sextus ! 

Now welcome to thy home ! 
Why dost thou stay, and turn away 

Here lies the road to Rome." 

LIT. 

Thrice looked he at the city ; 

Thrice looked he at the dead ; 
And thrice came on in fury, 

An^ thrice turned back in dread ; 



49 



so 



LA VS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

And, white with fear and hatred. 
Scowled at the narrow way 

Where, wallowing in a pool of blood. 
The bravest Tuscans lay. 

LIII. 

But meanwhile axe and lever 

Have manfully been plied ; 
And now the bridge hangs tottering 

Above the boiling tide. 
" Come back, come back, Horatius ! " 

Loud cried the Fathers all, 
•' Back, Lartius ! back, Herminius ! 

Back, ere the ruin fall ! " 

LIV. 

Back darted Spurius Lartius ; 

Herminius darted back : 
And, as they passed, beneath their feet 

They felt the timbers crack. 
But when they turned their faces, 

And on the farther shore 
Saw brave Horatius stand alone, 

They would have crossed once more. 

LV. 

But with a crash like thunder 

Fell every loosened beam, 
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck 

Lay right athwart the stream ; 
And a long shout of triumph 

Rose from the walls of Rome, 
As to the highest turret-tops 

Was splashed the yellow foam. 



HORA TIUS. 
LVI. 

And like a horse unbroken 

When first he feels the rein, 
The furious river struggled hard, 

And tossed his tawny mane, 
And burst the curb, and bounded, 

Rejoicing to be free ; 
And whirling down, in fierce career 
Battlement, and plank, and pier, 

Rushed headlong to the sea. 

LVII. 

Alone stood brave Horatius, 

But constant still in mind ; 
Thrice thirty thousand foes before, 

And the broad flood behind. 
" Down with him ! " cried false Sextus, 

With a smile on his pale face. 
" Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, 

" Now yield thee to our grace." 

LVIII. 

Round turned he, as not deigning 

Those craven ranks to see ; 
Nought spake he to Lars Porsena, 

To Sextus nought spake he ; 
But he saw on Palatinus 

The white porch of his home ; 
And he spake to the noble river 

That rolls by the towers of Rome. 

LIX. 

" Oh, Tiber ! father Tiber ! 

To whom the Romans pray, 
A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, 

Take thou in charge this day." 



5« 



s* 



LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

So he spake, and speaking sheathed 
The good sword by his side, 

And with his harness on his back, 
Plunged headlong in the tide. 

LX. 

No sound of joy or sorrow 

Was heard from either bank ; 
But friends and foes, in dumb surprise, 
With parted lips and straining eyes, 

Stood gazing where he sank ; 
And when above the surges 

They saw his crest appear, 
All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry. 
And even the ranks of Tuscany 

Could scarce forbear to cheer. 

LXI, 

But fiercely ran the current, 

Swollen high by months of rain : 
And fast his blood was flowing 

And he was sore in pain, 
And heavy with his armor, 

And spent with changing blows : 
And oft they thought him sinking, 

But still again he rose, 

LXII. 

Never, I ween, did swimmer, 

In such an evil case, 
Struggle through such a raging flood 

Safe to the landing-place : 



H OR ATI us. 



S3 



» 



But his limbs were borne up bravely 

By the brave heart within ; 
And our good father Tiber 

Bore bravely up his chin.* 

LXIII. 

" Curse on him ! " quoth false Sextus ; 

" Will not the villain drown ? 
But for this stay, ere close of day 

We should have sacked the town ! " 
" Heaven help him ! " quoth Lars Porsena, 

" And bring him safe to shore; 
For such a gallant feat of arms 

Was never seen before." 

LXIV. 

And now he feels the bottom ; 

Now on dry earth he stands ; 
Now round him throng the Fathers 

To press his gory hands ; 
And now, with shouts and clapping, 

And noise of weeping loud. 
He enters through the River-Gate, 

Borne by the joyous crowd. 

" Our ladye bare upp her chinne." 

Ballad of Childe Waters. 
" Never heavier man and horse 
Stemmed a midnight torrent's force ; 

Yet, through good heart and our Lady's grace. 
At length he gained the landing-place." 

Lay of the Last Minstrel, T. 



54 



LA VS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
LXV. 

They gave him of the corn-land, 

That was of public right, 
As much as two strong oxen 

Could plough from morn till night; 
And they made a molten image, 

And set it up on high, 
And there it stands unto this day 

To witness if I lie. 

LXVI. 

It stands in the Comitium, 

Plain for all folk to see ; 
Horatius in his harness, 

Halting upon one knee : 
And underneath is written. 

In letters all of gold, 
How valiantly he kept the bridge, 

In the brave days of old. 

LXVIl. 

t 

And still his name sounds stirring 

Unto the men of Rome, 
As the trumpet-blast that cries to them 

To charge the Volscian home ; 
And wives still pray to Juno 

For boys with hearts as bold 
As his who kept the bridge so well 

In the brave days of old. 



MORA TIUS. 55 

LXVIII. 

And in the nights of winter, 

When the cold north winds blow, 
And the long howling of the wolves 

Is heard amidst the snow ; 
When round the lonely cottage 

Roars loud the tempest's din, 
And the good logs of Algidus 

Roar louder yet within ; 

LXIX. 

When the oldest cask is opened, 

And the largest lamp is lit ; 
When the chestnuts glow in the embers. 

And the kid turns on the spit ; 
When young and old in circle 

Around the firebrands close ; 
When the girls are weaving baskets, 

And the lads are shaping bows ; 

LXX. 

When the goodman mends his armor, 

And trims his helmet's plume ; 
When the goodwife's shuttle merrily 

Goes flashing through the loom ; 
With weeping and with laughter 

Still is the story told, 
How well Horatius kept the bridge 

In the brave days of old. 



THE 

BATTLE OF THE LAKE 
REGILLUS. 



The following poem is supposed to have been produced 
about ninety years after the lay of Horatius. Some per- 
sons mentioned in the lay of Horatius make their appear- 
ance again, and some appellations and epithets used in 
the lay of Horatius have been purposely repeated : for, in 
an age of ballad-poetry, it scarcely ever fails to happen, 
that certain phrases come to be appropriated to certain 
men and things, and are regularly applied to those men and 
things by every minstrel. Thus we find both things in the 
Homeric poems and in Hesiod, ^it} * IIpaxXrjstTj ' rs/^jz/uro? 
' AiKptyj-qsiq^ StdxTopn^^ Apy£'.^6'^T7]<;, iTzrdnoXoq OtJI^T/, 'EXivyj^ 
tvtx ■/jijxofjjno. Thus, too, in our own national songs, 
Douglas is almost always the doughty Douglas : Eng- 
land is merry England : all the gold is red ; and all the 
ladies are gay. 

The principal distinction between the lay of Horatius 
and the lay of the Lake Regillus is that the former is 
meant to be purely Roman, while the latter, though 
national in its general spirit, has a slight tincture of Greek 
learning and of Greek superstition. The story of the 
Tarquins, as it has come down to us, appears to have 
been compiled from the works of several popular poets; 
and one, at least, of those poets appears to have visited 



BA TTLE OF THE LAKE REGILL US. 57 

the Greek colonies in Italy, if not Greece itself, and to 
have had some acquaintance with the works of Homer and 
Herodotus. Many of the most striking adventures of the 
house of Tarquin, before Lucretia makes her appearance, 
have a Greek character. The Tarquins themselves are 
represented as Corinthian nobles of the great house of the 
Bacchiadaj, driven from their country by the tyranny of 
that Cypselus, the tale of whose strange escape Herodotus 
has related with incomparable simplicity and liveliness.* 
Livy and Dionysius tell us that when Tarquin the Proud 
was asked what was the best mode of governing a con- 
quered city, he replied only by beating^ down with his staff 
all the tallest poppies in his garden. f This is exactly what 
Herodotus, in the passage to which reference has already 
been made, relates of the counsel given to Periander, the 
son of Cypselus. The stratagem by which the town of 
Gabii is brought under the power of the Tarquins is, again, 
obviously copied from Herodotus. t The embassy of the 
young Tarquins to the oracle at Delphi is just such a 
story as would be told by a poet whose head was full of 
the Greek mythology : and the ambiguous answer returned 
by Apollo is in the exact style of the prophecies which, 
according to Herodotus, lured Croesus to destruction. 
Then the character of the narrative changes. From the 
first mention of Lucretia to the retreat of Porsena nothing 
seems to be borrowed from foreign sources. The villany of 
Sextus, the suicide of his victim, the revolution, the death 
of the sons of Brutus, the defence of the bridge, Mucius 
burning his hand, § Cloelia swimming through the Tiber, 

* Herodotus, v. 92. Livy, i. 34. Dionysius, iii. 46. 

t Livy, i. 54. Dionysius, iv. 56. 

X Herodotus, iii. 154. Livy, i. 53. 

§ M. de Pouilly attempted, a hundred and twenty years ago, to 
prove that the story of Mucius was of Greek origin ; but he was 
signally confuted by the Abb^ Sallier. See the Mtmoires de I'Acad^ 
mk des Inscriptions, vi. 27, 66. 



jS LA VS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

seem to be all strictly Roman. But when we have done 
with the Tuscan war, and enter upon the war with the 
Latines, we are again struck by the Greek air of the story. 
The Battle of the Lake Regillus is in all respects a Homeric 
battle, except that the combatants ride astride on their 
horses, instead of driving chariots. The mass of lighting 
men is hardly mentioned. The leaders single each other 
out, and engage hand to hand. The great object of the 
warriors on both sides is, as in the Iliad, to obtain posses- 
sion of the spoils and bodies of the slain ; and several 
circumstances are related which forcibly remind us of 
the great slaughter round the corpses of Sarpedon and 
Patroclus. 

But there is one circumstance which deserves especial 
notice. Both the war of Troy and the war of Regillus 
were caused by the licentious passions of young princes, 
who were therefore peculiarly proud not to be sparing of 
their own persons in the day of battle. Now the conduct 
of Sextus at Regillus, as described by Livy, so exactly 
resembles that of Paris, as described at the beginning of 
the third book of the Iliad, that it is difficult to believe the 
resemblance accidental. Paris appears before the Trojan 
ranks, defying the bravest Greek to encounter him : 

Ipualv jutv npo/idxi^ev 'AH^avSpo^ &eoec67lg, 

'Apyeiuv nponaXl^ero Trdvraf apioTOVC, 

avrijiLOV fiaxi<!a-adai iv alvy StjioriiTi.. 

Livy introduces Sextus in a similar manner : ** Ferocem 
juvenum Tarquinium, ostentantem se in prima exsulum 
acic." Menelaus rushes to meet Paris. A Roman noble, 
eager for vengeance, spurs his horse towards Sextus. Both 
the guilty princes are instantly terror-stricken : 

Tov J" <if o!iv evdTjaev 'AXe§av6pog T^eoecStjc 
£v ■Kpop.axoiai (pavevra, KaTSTrl^yrj (pi?i.ov f/rop' 
a\l/ <J' irapuv c'i{ idvoq i^dCtTo K^p' aXetivun. 



BA TTLE OF THE LAKE REG ILL US. 59 

" Tarquinius," says Livy, " retro in agmen suorum infenso 
cessit hosti." If this be a fortuitous coincidence, it is one 
of the most extraordinary in literature. 

In the following poem, therefore, images and incidents 
have been borrowed, not merely without scruple, but on 
principle, from the incomparable battle-pieces of Homer. 

The popular belief at Rome, from an early period, seems 
to have been that the event of the great day of Regillus 
was decided by supernatural agency. Castor and Pollux, 
it was said, had fought, armed and mounted, at the head of 
the legions of the commonwealth, and had afterwards car- 
ried the news of the victory with incredible speed to the 
city. The well in the Forum at which they had alighted 
was pointed out. Near the well rose their ancient temple. 
A great festival was kept to their honor on the Ides of 
Quintilis, supposed to be the anniversary of the battle ; 
and on that day sumptuous sacrifices were offered to them 
at the public charge. One spot on the margin of Lake 
Regillus was regarded during many ages with supersti- 
tious awe. A mark, resembling in shape a horse's hoof, 
was discernible in the volcanic rock ; and this mark was 
believed to have been made by one of the celestial chargers. 

How the legend originated cannot now be ascertained : 
but we may easily imagine several ways in which it might 
have originated ; nor is it at all necessary to suppose, 
with Julius Frontinus, that two young men were dressed 
up by the Dictator to personate the sons of Leda. It is 
probable that Livy is correct when he says that the Roman 
general, in the hour of peril, vowed a temple to Castor. 
If so, nothing could be more natural than that the multi- 
tude should ascribe the victory to the favor of the Twin 
Gods. When such was the prevailing sentiment, any man 
who chose to declare that, in the midst of the confusion 
and slaughter, he had seen two godlike forms on white 
horses scattering the Latines, would find ready credence. 



6o LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

We know, indeed, that, in modern times, a very similar 
story actually found credence among a people much more 
civilized than the Romans of the fifth century before 
Christ. A chaplain of Cortes, writing about thirty years 
after the conquest of Mexico, in an age of printing presses, 
libraries, universities, scholars, logicians, jurists and states- 
men, had the face to assert that, in one engagement 
against the Indians, Saint James had appeared on a gray 
horse at the head of the Castilian adventurers. Many of 
those adventurers were living when this lie was printed. 
One of them, honest Bernal Diaz, wrote an account of the 
expedition. He had the evidence of his own senses against 
the legend ; but he seems to have distrusted even the evi- 
dence of his own senses. He says that he was in the 
battle, and that he saw a gray horse with a man on his 
back, but that the man was, to his thinking, Francesco de 
Morla, and not the ever-blessed apostle, Saint James. 
" Nevertheless," Bernal adds, " it may be that the person on 
the gray horse was the glorious apostle Saint James, and 
that I, sinner that I am, was unworthy to see him." The 
Romans of the age of Cincinnatus were probably quite as 
credulous as the Spanish subjects of Charles the Fifth. 
It is therefore conceivable that the api^earance of Castor 
and Pollux may have become an article of Faith before 
the generation which had fought at Regillus had passed 
away. Nor could anything be more natural than that 
the poets of the next age should embellish this story, and 
make the celestial horsemen bear the tidings of victory to 
Rome. 

Many years after the temple of the Twin Gods had been 
built in the Forum, an important addition was made to 
the ceremonial by which the state annually testified its 
gratitude for their protection. Quintus Fabius and Cu- 
plius Decius were elected Censors at a momentous crisis. 
It had become absolutely necessary that the classification 



BA TTLE OF THE LA KB REG ILL US. 6 1 

of the citizens should be revised. On that classification 
depended the distribution of political power. Party spirit 
ran high ; and the republic seemed to be in danger of fall- 
ing under the dominion either of a narrow oligarchy or of 
an ignorant and headstrong rabble. Under such circum- 
stances, the most illustrious patrician and most illustrious 
plebeian of the age were intrusted with the office of arbi- 
trating between the angry factions ; and they performed 
their arduous task to the satisfaction of all honest and rea- 
sonable men. 

One of their reforms was a remodelling of the eques- 
trian order ; and, having effected this reform, they deter- 
mined to give to their work a sanction derived from reli- 
gion. In the chivalrous societies of modern times, which 
have much more than may at first sight appear in common 
with the equestrian order of Rome, it has been usual to* 
invoke the special protection of some Saint, and to observe 
his day with peculiar solemnity. Thus the Companions 
of the Garter wear the image of Saint George depending 
from their collars, and meet, on great occasions, in Saint 
George's Chapel. Thus, when Lewis the Fourteenth insti- 
tuted a new order of chivalry for the rewarding of military 
merit, he commended it to the favor of his own glorified 
ancestor and patron, and decreed that all the members of 
the fraternity should meet at the royal palace on the 
feast of Saint Lewis, should attend the king to chapel, 
should hear mass, and should subsequently hold their great 
annual assembly. There is a considerable resemblance 
between this rule of the order of Saint Lewis and the rule 
which Fabius and Decius made respecting the Roman 
knights. It was ordained that a grand muster and in. 
spection of the equestrian body should be part of the 
ceremonial performed on the anniversary of the bat- 
tle of Regillus, in honor of Castor and Pollux, the two 
equestrian Gods. All the knights, clad in purple and 



62 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

crowned with olive, were to meet at a temple of Mars in 
the suburbs. Thence they were to ride in state to the 
Forum, where the temple of the Twins stood. This pageant 
was, during several centuries, considered as one of the most 
splendid sights of Rome. In the time of Dionysius, the 
cavalcade sometimes consisted of five thousand horsemen, 
all persons of fair repute and easy fortune.* 

There can be no doubt that the Censors who instituted 
this august ceremony acted in concert with the Pontiffs to 
whom, by the constitution of Rome, the superintendence 
of the public worship belonged ; and it is probable that 
those high religious functionaries were, as usual, fortunate 
enough to find in their books or traditions some warrant 
for the innovation. 

The following poem is supposed to have been made for 
this great occasion. Songs, we know, were chanted at the 
religious festivals of Rome from an earl}' period, indeed 
from so early a period that some of the sacred verses were 
popularly ascribed to Numa, and were utterly unintelligible 
in the age of Augustus. In the Second Punic War a 
great feast was held in honor of Juno, and a song was 
sung in her praise. This song was extant when Livy 
wrote ; and, though exceedingly rugged and uncouth, 
seemed to him not wholly destitute of merit.f A song, as 
we learn from Horace,! was part of the established rit- 
ual at the great Secular Jubilee. It is therefore likely 
that the Censors and Pontiffs, when they had resolved 
to add a grand procession of knights to the other so- 
lemnities annually performed on the Ides of Quintilis, 
would call in the aid of a poet. Such a poet would natur- 

* See Livy, ix. 46. Val. Max. ii. 2. Aurel. Vict. De Viris Illustri- 
bus, 32. Dionysius, vi. 13. Plin. Hist. Nat. xv. 5. See also the singu- 
larly ingenious chapter in Niebuhr's posthumous volume, Die Censttf 
des Q. Fabius nnd P. Decius, 

t Livy, xxvii. 37. } Hor. Carmen Seculare. 



BA TTLE OF THE LAKE REGILL US. 63 

ally take for his subject the battle of Regillus, the ap- 
pearance of the Twin Gods, and the institution of their 
festival. He would find abundant materials in the ballads 
of his predecessors ; and he would make free use of the 
scanty stock of Greek learning which he had himself 
acquired. He would probably introduce some wise and 
holy Pontiff enjoining the magnificent ceremonial which, 
after a long interval, had at length been adopted. If the 
poem succeeded, many persons would commit it to memory. 
Parts of it would be sung to the pipe at banquets. It 
would be peculiarly interesting to the great Posthu- 
mian House, which numbered among its many images 
that of the Dictator Aulus, the hero of Regillus. The 
orator who, in the following generation, jDronounced 
the funeral panegyric over the remains of Lucius Posthu- 
mius Megellus, thrice Consul, would borrow largely from 
the lay; and thus some passages, much disfigured, would 
probably find their way into the chronicles which were 
afterwards in the hands of Dionj-sius and Livy. 

Antiquaries differ widely as to the situation of the field 
of battle. The opinion of those who suppose that the 
armies met near Cornufelle, between Frascati and the 
Monte Porzio, is at least plausible, and has been followed 
in the poem. 

As to the details of the battle, it has not been thought 
desirable to adhere minutely to the accounts which have 
come down to us. Those accounts, indeed, differ widely 
from each other, and, in all probability, differ as Avidely 
from the ancient poem from which they were originally 
derived. 

It is unnecessary to point out the obvious imitations of 
the Iliad, which have been purposely introduced. 



THE 

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 

A LAY SUNG AT THE FEAST OF CASTOR AND POLLUX ON 
THE IDES OF QUINTILIS, IN THE YEAR OF THE CITY 
CCCCLI. 



Ho, trumpets, sound a war-note 

Ho, lictors, clear the way ! 
The Knights will ride, in all their pride 

Along the streets to-day. 
To-day the doors and windows 

Are hung with garlands all. 
From Castor in the Forum, 

To Mars without the wall. 
Each Knight is robed in purple, 

With olive each is crowned ; 
A gallant war-horse under each 

Paws haughtily the ground. 
While flows the Yellow River, 

While stands the Sacred Hill, 
The proud Ides of Ouintilis 

Shall have such honor still. 



BA TTLE OF THE LA KE RE GILL US: 6| 

Gay are the Martian Kalends : 

December's Nones are gay : 
But the proud Ides, when the squadron rides, 

Shall be Rome's whitest day. 

II. 
Unto the Great Twin Brethren 

We keep this solemn feast. 
Swift, swift, the Great Twin Brethren 

Came spurring from the east. 
They came o'er wild Parthenius 

Tossing in waves of pine, 
O'er Cirrha's dome, o'er Adria's foam, 

O'er purple Apennine, 
From where with flutes and dances 

Their ancient mansion rings, 
In lordly Lacedaemon, 

The City of two kings, 
To where, by Lake Regillus, 

Under the Porcian height. 
All in the lands of Tusculum, 

Was fought the glorious fight 

III. 
Now on the place of slaughter 

Are cots and sheepfolds seen, 
And rows of vines, and fields of wheat. 

And apple-orchards green ; 
The swine crush the big acorns 

That fall from Corne's oaks. 
Upon the turf by the Fair Fount 

The reaper's pottage smokes. 
The fisher baits his angle ; 

The hunter twangs his bow ; 



66 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

Little they think on those strong limbs 

That moulder deep below. 
Little they think how sternly 

That day the trumpets pealed ; 
How in the slippery swamp of blood 

Warrior and war-horse reeled ; 
How wolves came with fierce gallop, 

And crows on eager wings, 
To tear the flesh of captains, 

And peck the eyes of kings ; 
How thick the dead lay scattered 

Under the Porcian height ; 
How through the gates of Tusculum 

Raved the wild stream of flight; 
And how the Lake Regillus 

Bubbled with crimson foam, 
What time the Thirty Cities 

Came forth to war with Rome. 

IV. 

But, Roman, when thou standest 

Upon that holy ground, 
Look thou with heed on the dark rock 

That girds the dark lake round, 
So shalt thou see a hoof-mark 

Stamped deep into the flint : 
It was no hoof of mortal steed 

That made so strange a dint : 
There to the Great Twin Brethren 

Vow thou thy vows, and pray 
That they, in tempest and in fight, 

Will keep thy head alway. 



BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 67 

V. 
Since last the Great Twin Brethren 

Of mortal eyes were seen, 
Have years gone by an hundred 

And fourscore and thirteen. 
That summer a Virginius 

Was consul first in place ; 
The second was stout Aulus, 

Of the Posthumian race. 
The Herald of the Latines 

From Gabii came in state : 
The Herald of the Latines 

Passed through Rome's Eastern Gate : 
The Herald of the Latines 

Did in our Forum stand ; 
And there he did his office, 

A sceptre in his hand. 

VI. 

" Hear, Senators and people 

Of the good town of Rome, 
The Thirty Cities charge you 

To bring the Tarquins home ; 
And if ye still be stubborn, 

To work the Tarquins wrong, 
The Thirty Cities warn you, 

Look that your walls be strong.** 

VII. 

Then spake the Consul Aulus, 

He spake a bitter jest : 
" Once the jays sent a message 

Unto the eagle's nest : — 



68 LA VS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

Now yield thou up thine eyrie 

Unto the carrion-kite, 
Or come forth valiantly, and face 

The jays in deadly fight. — 
Forth looked in wrath the eagle ; 

And carrion-kite and jay, 
Soon as they saw his beak and claw, 

Fled screaming far away." 



VIII. 

The Herald of the Latines 

Hath hied him back in state: 
The Fathers of the City 

Are met in high debate. 
Then spake the elder Consul, 

An ancient man and wise : 
"Now hearken, Conscript Fathers, 

To that which I advise. 
In seasons of gi'eat peril 

'Tis good that one bear sway ; 
Then choose we a Dictator, 

Whom all men shall obey. 
Camerium knows how deeply 

The sword of Aulus bites. 
And all our city calls him 

The man of seventy fights. 
Then let him be Dictator 

For six months and no more, 
And have a Master of the Knights, 

And axes twenty-four." 



£A TTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 69 

. IX. 

So Aulus was Dictator, 

The man of seventy fights ; 
He made ^Ebutius Elva 

His Master of the Knights. 
On the third morn thereafter, 

At dawning of the day, 
Did Aulus and -/Ebutius 

Set forth with their array. 
Sempronius Atratinus 

Was left in charge at home, 
With boys, and with grey-headed men, 

To keep the walls of Rome. 
Hard by the Lake Regillus 

Our camp was pitched at night : 
Eastward a mile the Latines lay, 

Under the Porcian height. 
Far over hill and valley 

Their mighty host was spread ; 
And with their thousand watch-fires 

The midnight sky was red. 

X. 

Up rose the golden morning 

Over the Porcian height, 
The proud Ides of Quintilis 

Marked evermore with white. 
Not without secret trouble 

Our bravest saw the foes ; 
For girt by threescore thousand spears, 

The thirty standards rose. 
From every warlike city 

That boasts the Latian name, 



7 c, LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

i 

Foredoomed to dogs and vultures. 

That gallant army came ; 
From Setia's purple vineyards, 

From Norba's ancient wall, 
From the white streets of Tusculum, 

The proudest town of all ; 
From where the Witch's Fortress 

O'erhangs the dark-blue seas ; , 
From the still glassy lake that sleeps 

Beneath Aricia's trees — 
Those trees in whose dim shadow 

The ghastly priest doth reign. 
The priest who slew the slayer, 

And shall himself be slain ; 
From the drear banks of Ufens, 

Where flights of marsh-fowl play. 
And buffaloes lie wallowing 

Through the hot summer's day ; 
From the gigantic watch-towers. 

No work of earthly men, 
Whence Cora's sentinels o'erlook 

The never-ending fen ; 
From the Laurentian jungle, 

The wild hog's reedy home ; 
From the green steeps whence Anio leaps 

In floods of snow-white foam. 

XI. 

Aricia, Cora, Norba, 

Velitrae, with the might 
Of Setia and of Tusculum, 

Were marshalled on the right : 



BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. yj 

The leader was Mamilius; 

Prince of the Latian name ; 
Upon his head a helmet 

Of red gold shone like flame; 
High on a gallant charger 

Of dark-grey hue he rode ; 
Over his gilded armor 

A vest of purple flowed, 
Woven in the land of sunrise 

By Syria's dark-browed daughters, 
And by the sails of Carthage brought 

Far o'er the southern waters. 

XII. 

Lavinium and Laurentum 

Had on the left their post, 
With all the banners of the marsh, 

And banners of the coast. 
Their leader was false Sextus, 

That wrought the deed of shame: 
With restless pace and haggard face 

To his last field he came. 
Men said he saw strange visions 

Which none beside might see. 
And that strange sounds were in his ears 

Which none might hear but he. 
A woman fair and stately. 

But pale as are the dead. 
Oft through the watches of the night 

Sat spinning by his bed. 
And as she plied the distaff, 

In a sweet voice and low 



72 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

She sang of great old houses, 
And fights fought long ago. 

So spun she, and so sang she, 
Until the east was grey. 

Then pointed to her bleeding breast, 
And shrieked, and fled away. 

XIII. 

But in the centre thickest 

Were ranged the shields of foes, 
And from the centre loudest 

The cry of battle rose. 
There Tibur marched and Fed 

Beneath proud Tarquin's rule, 
And Ferentinum of the rock, 

And Gabii of the pool. 
There rode the Volscian succors : 

There, in a dark stern ring, 
The Roman exiles gathered close 

Around the ancient king. 
Though white as Mount Soracte, 

When winter nights are long, 
His beard flowed down o'er mail and belt, 

His heart and hand were strong : 
Under his hoary eyebrows 

Still flashed forth quenchless rage, 
And, if the lance shook in his gripe, 

'Twas more with hate than age. 
Close at his side was Titus 

On an Apulian steed, 
Titus, the youngest Tarquin, 

Too good for such a breed. 



BA TTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 73 

XIV. 

Now on each side the leaders 

Give signal for the charge ; 
And on each side the footmen 

Strode on with lance and targe; 
And on each side the horsemen 

Struck their spurs deep in gore, 
And front to front the armies 

Met with a mighty roar : 
And under that great battle 

The earth with blood was red ; 
And, like the Pomptine fog at morn, 

The dust hung overhead ; 
And louder still and louder 

Rose from the darkened field 
The braying of the war-horns, 

The clang of sword and shield, 
The rush of squadrons sweeping 

Like whirlwinds o'er the plain, 
The shouting of the slayers, 

And screeching of the slain. 

XV. 

False Sextus rode out foremost : 

His look was high and bold; 
His corslet was of bison's hide. 

Plated with steel and gold. 
As glares the famished eagle 

From the Digentian rock 
On a choice lamb that bounds alone 

Before Bandusia's flock, 
Herminius glared on Sextus, 

And came with eagle speed, 



74 LA VS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

Herminius on black Auster, 

Brave champion on brave steed ; 
In his right hand the broadsword 

That kept the bridge so well, 
And on his helm the crown he won 

When proud Fidenae fell. 
Woe to the maid whose lover 

Shall cross his path to-day ! 
False Sextus saw, and trembled. 

And turned and fled away. 
As turns, as flies the woodman 

In the Calabrian brake. 
When through the reeds gleams the round eye 

Of that fell speckled snake; 
So turned, so fled, false Sextus, 

And hid him in the rear, 
Behind the dark Lavinian ranks, 

Bristling with crest and spear. 

XVI. 

But far to north ^butius. 

The Master of the Knights, 
Gave Tubero of Norba 

To feed the Porcian kites. 
Next under those red horse-hoofs 

Flaccus of Setia lay ; , 

Better had he been pruning 

Among his elms that day. 
Mamilius saw the slaughter, 

And tossed his golden crest, 
And towards the Master of the Knights 

Through the thick battle pressed. 



BA TTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 7 j 

^butius smote Mamilius 

So fiercely on the shield 
That the great lord of Tusculum 

Well nigh rolled on the field. 
Mamilius smote ^butius, 

With a good aim and true, 
Just where the neck and shoulder join 

And pierced him through and through ; 
And brave ^butius Elva 

Fell swooning to the ground : 
But a thick wall of bucklers 

Encompassed him around. 
His clients from the battle 

Bare him some little space, 
And filled a helm from the dark lake, 

And bathed his brow and face ; 
And when at last he opened 

His swimming eyes to light, 
Men say, the earliest word he spake 

Was, " Friends, how goes the fight "i " 

XVII. 

But meanwhile in the centre 

Great deeds of arms were wrought; 
There Aulus the Dictator 

And there Valerius fought. 
Aulus with his good broadsword 

A bloody passage cleared 
To where, amidst the thickest foes, 

He saw the long white beard. 
Flat lighted that good broadsword 

Upc^n proud Tarquin's head. 



76 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

He dropped the lance : he dropped the reins 

He fell as fall the dead. 
Down Aulus springs to slay him, 

With eyes like coals of fire ; 
But faster Titus hath sprung down, 

And hath bestrode his sire. 
Latian captains, Roman knights. 

Fast down to earth they spring. 
And hand to nand they fight on foot 

Around the ancient king. 
First Titus gave tall Caeso 

A death-wound in the face ; 
Tall Caeso was the bravest man 

Of the brave Fabian race : 
Aulus slew Rex of Gabii, 

The priest of Juno's shrine; 
Valerius smote down Julius, 

Of Rome's great Julian line; 
Julius, who left his mansion 

High on the Velian hill, 
And through all turns of weal and woe 

Followed proud Tarquin still. 
Now right across proud Tarquin 

A corpse was Julius laid ; 
And Titus groaned with rage and grief, 

And at Valerius made. 
Valerius struck at Titus, 

And lopped off half his crest ; 
But Titus stabbed Valerius 

A span deep in the breast. 
Like a mast snapped by the tempest, 

Valerius reeled and fell. 



BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 77 

Ah ! woe is me for the good house 

That loves the people well ! 
Then shouted loud the Latines ; 

And with one rush they bore 
The struggling Romans backward 

Three lances' length and more : 
And up they took proud Tarquin, 

And laid him on a shield, 
And four strong yeomen bare him, 

Still senseless, from the field. 

XVIII. 

But fiercer grew the fighting 

Around Valerius dead ; 
For Titus dragged him by the foot, 

And Aulus by the head. 
" On, Latines, on ! " quoth Titus, 

" See how the rebels fly ! " 
" Romans, stand firm ! " quoth Aulus, 

" And win this fight, or die ! 
They must not give Valerius 

To raven and to kite ; 
For aye Valerius loathed the wrong, 

And aye upheld the right ; 
And for your wives and babies 

In the front rank he fell. 
Now play the men for the good house 

That loves the people well ! " 

XIX. 

Then tenfold round the body 

The roar of battle rose. 
Like the roar of a burning forest. 

When a strong north wind blows. 



2 8 LAYS OF A ANIENT ROME. 

Now backward, and now forward, 

Rocked furiously the fray, 
Till none could see Valerius, 

And none wist where he lay. 
For shivered arms and ensigns 

Were heaped there in a mound. 
And corpses stiff, and dying men 

That writhed and gnawed the ground; 
And wounded horses kicking, 

And snorting purple foam : 
Right well did such a couch befit 

A Consular of Rome. 

XX, 

But north looked the Dictator ; 

North looked he long and hard ; 
And spake to Caius Cossus, 

The Captain of his Guard ; 
" Caius, of all the Romans 

Thou hast the keenest sight ; 
Say, what through yonder storm of dust 

Comes from the Latian right .'' " 

XXI. 

Then answered Caius Cossus . 

" I see an evil sight ; 
The banner of proud Tusculum 

Comes from the Latian right ; 
I see the plumed horsemen ; 

And far before the rest 
I see the dark-grey charger, 

I see the purple vest ; 



BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS 79 

I see the golden helmet 

That shines far off like flame ; 
So ever rides Mamilius, 

Prince of the Latian name." 

XXIL 

•' Now hearken, Caius Cossus : 

Spring on thy horse's back ; 
Ride as the wolves of Apennine 

Were all upon thy track ; 
Haste to our southward battle : 

And never draw thy rein 
Until thou find Herminius, 

And bid him come amain." 

XXIII. 

So Aulus spake, and turned him 

Again to that fierce strife ; 
And Caius Cossus mounted, 

And rode for death and life. 
Loud clanged beneath his horse-hoofs 

The helmets of the dead, 
And many a curdling pool of blood 

Splashed him from heel to head. 
So came he far to southward, 

Where fought the Roman host. 
Against the banners of the marsh, 

And banners of the coast. 
Like corn before the sickle 

The stout Lavinians fell, 
Beneath the edge of the true sword 

That kept the bridge so well. 



go LAVS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

XXIV. 

" Herminius ! Aulus greets thee ; 

He bids thee come with speed. 
To help our central battle ; 

For sore is there our need. 
There wars the youngest Tarquin, 

And there the Crest of Flame, 
The Tusculan Mamilius, 

Prince of the Latian name. 
Valerius hath fallen fighting 

In front of our array : 
And Aulus of the seventy fields 

Alone upholds the day. " 

XXV. 

Herminius beat his bosom : 

But never a word he spake. 
He clasped his hand on Auster's mane: 

He gave the reins a shake. 
Away, away went Auster, 

Like an arrow from the bow ; 
Black Auster was the fleetest steed 

From Aufidus to Po. 

XXVI. 

Right glad were all the Romans 

Who, in that hour of dread. 
Against great odds bare up the war 

Around Valerius dead, 
When from the south the cheering 

Rose with a mighty swell ; 
" Herminius comes, Herminius, 

Who kept the bridge so well !" 



BATTLE OF THE LAKE RECILLUS 81 

XXVII. 

Mamilius spied Herminius, 

And dashed across the way. 
" Herminius ! I have sought thee 

Through many a bloody day. 
One of us two, Herminius, 

Shall never more go home. 
I will lay on for Tusculum, 

And lay thou on for Rome ! " 

XXVIII. 

All round them paused the battle, 

While met in mortal fray 
The Roman and the Tusculan, 

The horses black and grey. 
Herminius smote Mamilius 

Through breast-plate and through breast; 
And fast flowed out the purple blood 

Over the purple vest. 
Mamilius smote Herminius 

Through head-piece and through head ; 
And side by side those chiefs of pride 

Together fell down dead. 
Down fell they dead together 

In a great lake of gore ; 
And still stood all who saw them fall 

While men might count a score. 

XXIX. 

Fast, fast, with heels wild spurning, 

The dark-grey charger fled : 
He burst through ranks of fighting men ; 

He sprang o'er heaps of dead. 



82 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

His bridle far out-streaming, 

His flanks all blood and foam, 
He sought the southern mountains, 

The mountains of his home. 
The pass was steep and rugged. 

The wolves they howled and whined ; 
But he ran like a whirlwind up the pass. 

And he left the wolves behind. 
Through many a startled hamlet 

Thundered his flying feet ; 
He rushed through the gate of Tusculum, 

He rushed up the long white street ; 
He rushed by tower and temple, 

And paused not Irom his race 
Till he stood before his master's door 

In the stately market-place. 
And straightway round him gathered 

A pale and trembling crowd, 
And when they knew him, cries of rage 

Brake forth, and wailing loud : 
And women rent their tresses 

For their great prince's fall ; 
And old men girt on their old swords, 

And went to man the wall. 

XXX. I 

But, like a graven image, 
Black Auster kept his place. 

And ever wistfully he looked 
Into his master's face. 

The raven-mane that daily, 
With pats and fond caresses, 



BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 83 

The young Herminia washed and combed, 

And twined in even tresses, 
And decked with colored ribands 

From her own gay attire, 
Hung sadly o'er her father's corpse 

In carnage and in mire. 
Forth with a shout sprang Titus, 

And seized black Auster's rein. 
Then Aulus sware a fearful oath, 

And ran at him amain. 
" The furies of thy brother 

With me and mine abide. 
If one of your accursed house 

Upon black Auster ride ! " 
As on an Alpine watch-tower 

From heaven comes down the flame, 
Full on the neck of Titus 

The blade of Aulus came : 
And out the red blood spouted, 

In a wide arch and tall, 
As spouts a fountain in the court 

Of some rich Capuan's hall. 
The knees of all the Latines 

Were loosened with dismay. 
When dead, on dead Herminius, 

The bravest Tarquin lay. 

XXXI, 

And Aulus the Dictator 

Stroked Auster's raven mane, 
With heed he looked unto the girths, 

With heed unto the refn. 



84 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

" Now bear me well, black Auster, 

Into yon thick array ; 
And thou and I will have revenge 

For thy good lord this day." 

XXXII. 

So spake he ; and was buckling 

Tighter black Auster's band, 
When he was aware of a princely pair 

That rode at his right hand. 
So like they were, no mortal 

Might one from other know : 
White as snow their armor was ; 

Their steeds were white as snow. 
Never on earthly anvil 

Did such rare armor gleam ; 
And never did such gallant steeds 

Drink of an earthly stream. 

XXXIII. 

And all who saw them trembled, 

And pale grew every cheek ; 
And Aulus the Dictator 

Scarce gathered voice to speak. 
" Say by what name men call you ? 

What city is your home .-' 
And wherefore ride ye in such guise 

Before the ranks of Rome ? " 

XXXIV. 

" By many names men call us ; 

In many lands we dwell : 
Well Samothracia knows us ; 

Cyrene knows us well. 



BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. gr 

Our house in gay Tarentum 

Is hung each morn with flowers : 
High o'er the masts of Syracuse 

Our marble portal towers ; 
But by the proud Eurotas 

Is our dear native home ; 
And for the right we come to fight 

Before the ranks of Rome." 

XXXV, 

So answered those strange horsemen, 

And each couched low his spear ; 
And forthwith all the ranks of Rome 

Were bold and of good cheer : 
And on the thirty armies 

Came wonder and affright, 
And Ardea wavered on the left. 

And Cora on the right. 
" Rome to the charge ! " cried Aulus ; 

" The foe begins to yield ! 
Charge for the hearth of Vesta ! 

Charge for the Golden Shield ! 
Let no man stop to plunder. 

But slay, and slay, and slay ; 
The gods, who live for ever, 

Are on our side to-day." 

XXXVI. 

Then the fierce trumpet-flourish 

From earth to heaven arose ; 
The kites know well the long stern swell 

That bids the Romans close. 



86 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

Then the good sword of Aulus 

Was lifted up to slay : 
Then, like a crag down Apennine, 

Rushed Auster through the fray. 
But under those strange horsemen 

Still thicker lay the slain ; 
And after those strange horses 

Black Auster toiled in vain. 
Behind them Rome's long battle 

Came rolling on the foe, 
Ensigns dancing wild above, 

Blades all in line below. 
So comes the Po in flood-time 

Upon the Celtic plain : 
So comes the squall, blacker than night, 

Upon the Adrian main. ^ 

Now, by our Sire Quirinus, 

It was a goodly sight 
To see the thirty standards 

Swept down the tide of flight. 
So flies the spray of Adria 

When the black squall doth blow, 
So corn-sheaves in the flood-time 

Spin down the whirling Po. 
False Sextus to the mountains 

Turned first his horse's head ; 
And fast fled Ferentinum, 

And fast Lanuvium fled. 
The horsemen of Nomentum 

Spurred hard out of the fray ; 
The footmen of Velitras 

Threw shield and spear away. 



BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 87 

And underfoot was trampled, 

Amidst the mud and gore, 
The banner of proud Tusculum, 

That never stooped before : 
And down went Flavins Faustus, 

Who led his stately ranks 
From where the apple blossoms wave 

On Anio's echoing banks, 
And Tullus of Arpinum, 

Chief of the Volscian aids, 
And Metius with the long fair curls, 

The love of Anxur's maids ; 
And the white head of Vulso, 

The great Arician seer, 
A.nd Nepos of Laurentum, 

The hunter of the deer ; 
And in the back false Sextus 

Felt the good Roman steel. 
And wriggling in the dust he died, 

Like a worm beneath the wheel : 
And fliers and pursuers 

Were mingled in a mass ; 
And far away the battle 

Went roaring through the pass. 

XXXVII. 

Sempronius Atratinus 

Sate in the Eastern Gate, 
Beside him were three Fathers, 

Each in his chair of state ; 
Fabius, whose nine stout grandsons 

That day were in the field, 



88 LA YS OF A NCIENT ROME. 

And Manlius, eldest of the Twelve 

Who kept the Golden Shield ; 
And Sergius, the High Pontiff, 

For wisdom far renowned ; 
In all Etruria's colleges 

Was no such Pontiff found. 
And all around the portal, 

And high above the wall. 
Stood a great throng of people, 

But sad and silent all ; 
Young lads, and stooping elders 

That might not bear the mail, 
Matrons with lips that quivered. 

And maids with faces pale. 
Since the first gleam of daylight, 

Sempronius had not ceased 
To listen for the rushing 

Of horse-hoofs from the east. 
The mist of eve was rising, 

The sun was hastening down, 
When he was aware of a princely pair 

Fast pricking towards the town. 
So like they were, man never 

Saw twins so like before ; 
Red with gore their armor was. 

Their steeds were red with gore. 

XXXVIII. 

" Hail to the great Asylum ! 

Hail to the hill-tops seven ! 
Hail to the fire that burns for aye. 

And the shield that fell from heaven 



BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGLLLUS. 89 

This day, by Lake Regillus, 

Under the Porcian heisrht, 
All in the lands of Tusculum 

Was fought a glorious fight, 
To-morrow your Dictator 

Shall bring in triumph home 
The spoils of thirty cities 

To deck the shrines of Rome ! " 



XXXIX. 

Then burst from that great concourse 

A shout that shook the towers, 
And some ran north, and some ran south, 

Crying, " The day is ours ! " 
But on rode these strange horsemen, 

With slow and lordly pace ; 
And none who saw their bearing 

Durst ask their name or race. 
On rode they to the Forum, 

While laurel-boughs and flowers. 
From house-tops and from windows. 

Fell on their crests in showers. 
When they drew nigh to Vesta, 

They vaulted down amain, 
And washed their horses in the well 

That springs by Vesta's fane. 
And straight again they mounted, 

And rode to Vesta's door ; 
Then, like a blast, away they passed, 

And no man saw them more. 



go 



LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
XL. 

And all the people trembled, 

And pale grew every cheek ; 
And Sergius the High Pontiff 

Alone found voice to speak: 
"The gods who live for ever 

Have fought for Rome to-day ! 
These be the Great Twin Brethren 

To whom the Dorians pray. 
Back comes the Chief in triumph, 

Who, in the hour of fight, 
Hath seen the Great Twin Brethren 

In harness on his right. 
Safe comes the ship to haven. 

Through billows and through gales. 
If once the Great Twin Brethren 

Sit shining on the sails. 
Wherefore they washed their horses 

In Vesta's holy well, 
Wherefore they rode to Vesta's door, 

I know, but may not tell. 
Here, hard by Vesta's Temple, 

Build we a stately dome 
Unto the Great Twin Brethren 

Who fought so well for Rome. 
And when the months returning 

Bring back this day of fight, 
The proud Idoe of Quintilis, 

Marked evermore with white, 
Unto the Great Twin Brethren 

Let all the people throng, 



SA TTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 91 

With chaplets and with offerings, 

With music and with song ; 
And let the doors and windows 

Be hung with garlands all. 
And let the Knights be summoned 

To Mars without the wall : 
Thence let them ride in purple 

With joyous trumpet-sound, 
Each mounted on his war-horse, 

And each with olive crowned ; 
And pass in solemn order 

Before the sacred dome, 
Where dwell the Great Twin Brethren 

Who fought so well for Rome ! " 




VIRGINIA. 



A COLLECTION Consisting exclusively of war-songs would 
give an imperfect, or rather an erroneous, notion of the 
spirit of the old Latin ballads. The Patricians, during 
more than a century after the expulsion of the Kings, 
held all the high military commands. A PI ebeian, even 
though, like Lucius Siccius, he were distinguished by his 
valor and knowledge of war, could serve only in subor- 
dinate posts. A minstrel, therefore, who wished to cele- 
brate the early triumphs of his country, could hardly take 
any but Patricians for his heroes. The warriors who are 
mentioned in the two preceding lays, Horatius, Lartius, 
Herminius, Aulus Posthumius, yEbutius Elva, Sempronius 
Atratinus, Valerius Poplicola, were all members of the dom- 
inant order ; and a poet who was singing their praises, 
whatever his own political opinions might be, would naturally 
abstain from insulting the class to which they belonged, 
and from reflecting on the system which had placed such 
men at the head of the legions of the Commonwealth. 

But there was a class of compositions in which the great 

families were by no means so courteously treated. No 

parts of early Roman history are richer with poetical 

coloring than those which relate to the long contest 

between the privileged houses and the commonalty. The 
92 



VI RC I XI A. 



93 



population of Rome was, from a very early period, divided 
into hereditary castes, which, indeed, readily united to 
repel foreign enemies, but which regarded each other, 
during many years, with bitter animosity. Between those 
castes there was a barrier hardly less strong than that 
which, at Venice, parted the members of the Great Coun- 
cil from their countrymen. In some respects, indeed, the 
line which separated an Icilius or a Duilius from a Pos- 
thumius or a Fabius was even more deeply marked than 
that which separated the rower of a gondola from a Con- 
tarini or a Morosini. At Venice the distinction was merely 
civil. At Rome jt was both civil and religious. Among 
the grievances under which the Plebeians suffered, three 
were felt as peculiarly severe. They were excluded from 
the highest magistracies ; they were excluded from all 
share in the public lands ; and they were ground down to 
the dust by partial and barbarous legislation touching pecu- 
niary contracts. The ruling class in Rome was a moneyed 
class ; and it made and administered the laws with a view 
solely to its own interest. Thus the relation between lender 
and borrower was mixed up with the relation between sov- 
ereign and subject. The great men held a large portion 
of the community in dependence by means of advances 
at enormous usury. The law of debt, framed by creditors, 
and for the protection of creditors, was the most horrible 
that has ever been known among men. The liberty, and 
even the life, of the insolvent were at the mercy of the Pa- 
trician money-lenders. Children often became slaves in 
consequence of the misfortunes of their parents. The 
debtor was imprisoned, not in a public jail, under the care 
of impartial public functionaries, but in a private workhouse 
belonging to the creditor. Frightful stories were told re- 
specting these dungeons. It was said that torture and 
brutal violation were common ; that tight stocks, heavy 
chains, scanty measures of food, were used to punish 



94 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

wretches guilty of nothing but poverty ; and that brave 
soldiers, whose breasts were covered with honorable scars, 
were often marked still more deeply on the back by the 
scourges of high-born usurers. 

The Plebeians were, however, not wholly without con- 
stitutional rights. From an early period they had been 
admitted to some share of political power. They were en- 
rolled each in his century, and were allowed a share, con- 
siderable, though not proportioned to their numerical 
strength, in the disposal of those high dignities from which 
they were themselves excluded. Thus their position bore 
some resemblance to that of the Irish Catholics during the 
interval between the ye^r 1792 and the year 1829. The 
Plebeians had also the privilege of annually appointing 
officers, named Tribunes, who had no active share in the 
government of the Commonwealth, but who, by degrees, 
acquired a power formidable even to the ablest and most 
resolute Consuls and Dictators. The person of the Tribune 
was inviolable ; and, though he could directly effect little, he 
could obstruct everything. 

During more than a century after the institution of the 
Tribuneship, the Commons struggled manfully for the 
removal of the grievances under which they labored \ 
and, in spite of many checks and reverses, succeeded in 
wringing concession after concession from the stubborn 
aristocracy. At length, in the year of the city 378, both 
parties mustered their whole strength for their last and 
most desperate conflict. The popular and active Tribune, 
Caius Licinius, proposed the three memorable laws whieh 
are called by his name, and which were intended to redress 
the three great evils of which the Plebeians complained. 
He was supported, with eminent ability and firmness, by 
his colleague, Lucius Sextius. The struggle appears to 
have been the fiercest that ever, in any community, termi- 
nated without an appeal to arms. If such a contest had 



VIRGINIA. 



95 



raged in any Greek city, the streets would have run with 
blood. But, even in the paroxysms of faction, the Roman 
retained his gravity, his respect for law, and his tenderness 
for the lives of his fellow-citizens. Year after year Lici- 
nius and Sextius were re- elected Tribunes. Year after 
year, if the narrative which has come down to us is to be 
trusted, they continued to exert, to the full extent, their 
power of stopping the whole machine of government. No 
curule magistrates could be chosen ; no military muster 
could be held. We know too little of the state of Rome in 
those days to be able to conjecture how, during that long 
anarchy, the peace was kept, and ordinary justice adminis- 
tered between man and man. The animosity of both parties 
rose to the greatest height. The excitement, we may well 
suppose, would have been peculiarly intense at the annual 
election of Tribunes. On such occasions there can be 
little doubt that the great families did all that could be 
done, by threats and caresses, to break the union of the 
Plebeians. That union, however, proved indissoluble. At 
length the good cause triumphed. The Licinian laws were 
carried. Lucius Sextius was the first Plebeian Consul, 
Caius Licinius the third. 

The results of this great change were singularly happy 
and glorious. Two centuries of prosperity, harmony and 
victory, followed the reconciliation of the orders. Men who 
remembered Rome engaged in waging petty wars almost 
within sight of the Capitol, lived to see her the mistress 
of Italy. While the disabilities of the Plebeians continued, 
she was scarcely able to maintain her ground against the 
Volscians and Hernicans When those disabilities were 
removed, she rapidly became more than a match for Car- 
thage and Macedon, 

During the great Licinian contest the Plebeian poets 
were, doubtless, not silent. Even in modern times songs 
have been by no means without influence on public affairs ; 



96 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

and we may therefore infer that, in i society where printing 
was unknown, and where books were rare, a pathetic or 
humorous party-ballad must have produced effects such as 
we can but faintly conceive. It is certain that satirical poems 
were common at Rome from a very early period. The 
rustics, who lived at a distance from the seat of govern- 
ment, and took little part in the strife of factions, gave vent 
to their petty local animosities in coarse Fescennine verse. 
The lampoons of the city were doubtless of a higher order ; 
and their sting was early felt by the nobility. For in the 
Twelve Tables, long before the time of the Licinian laws, 
a severe punishment was denounced against the citizen 
who should compose or recite verses reflecting on an- 
other.* Satire is, indeed, the only sort of composition 
in which the Latin poets, whose works have come down to 
us, were not mere imitators of foreign models ; and it is 
therefore the only sort of composition in which they have 
never been rivalled. It was not, like their tragedy, their 
comedy, their epic and lyric poetry, a hot-house plant which, 
in return for assiduous and skilful culture, gave only scanty 
and sickly fruits. It was hardy and full of sap ; and in 
all the various juices which it yielded might be distinguished 
the flavor of the Ausonian soil, " Satire," says Quinctilian, 
with just pride, " is all our own." Satire sprang, in truth, 
naturally from the constitution of the Roman government, 
and from the spirit of the Roman people ; and, though at 
length subjected to metrical rules derived from Greece, re- 
tained to the last an essentially Roman character. Lucil- 
ius was the earliest satirist whose works were held in es- 
teem under the Caesars. But many years before Lucilius 

♦Cicero justly infers from this law that there had been early Latin 
poets whose works had been lost before his time. " Quamquam id 
quidem etiam xii tabulee declarant, condi jam turn solitum esse car- 
men, quod ne liceret fieri ad alterius injuriam lege sanxerunt. " — 
Tusc. iv. 2. 



VIRGINIA. 



97/ 



was born Nagvius had been flung into a dungeon, and 
guarded there with circumstances of unusual rigor, on ac- 
count of the bitter lines in which he had attacked the 
great Cascilian family.* The genius and spirit of the 
Roman satirist survived 'the liberty of their country, and 
were not extinguished by the cruel despotism of the Julian 
and Flavian Emperors. The great poet who told the story 
of Domitian's turbot, was the legitimate successor of those 
forgotten minstrels whose songs animated the factions of 
the infant Republic. 

These minstrels, as Niebuhr has remarked, appear to 
have generally taken the popular side. We can hardly be 
mistaken in supposing that, at the great crisis of the civil 
conflict, they employed themselves in versifying all the 
most powerful and virulent speeches of the Tribunes, and 
in heaping abuse on the leaders of the aristocracy. Every 
personal defect, every domestic scandal, every tradition 
dishonorable to a noble house, would be sought out, 
brought into notice, and exaggerated. The illustrious head 
of the aristocratical party, Marcus Furius Camillus, might 
perhaps be, in some measure, protected by his venerable 
age, and by the memory of his great services to the State. 
But Appius Claudius Crassus enjoyed no such immunity. 
He was descended from a long line of ancestors distin- 
guished by their haughty demeanor, and by the inflexibility 
with which they had withstood all the demands of the Ple- 
beian order. While the political conduct and the deport- 
ment of the Claudian nobles drew upon them the fiercest 
public hatred, they were accused of wanting, if any credit 
is due to the early history of Rome, a class of qualities 
which, in the military. Commonwealth, is sufficient to cover 
a multitude of offences. The chiefs of the family appear 
to have been eloquent, versed in civil business, and 

*Plautus, Miles Gloriosus. Auhis Gellius, iii. 3. 

7 



gS LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. --— 

learned after the fashion of their age ; but in war they 
were not distinguished by skill or valor. Some of them, 
as if conscious where their weakness lay, had, when filling 
the highest magistracies, taken internal administration as 
their department of public business, and left the military 
command to their colleagues.* One of them had been 
entrusted with an army, and had failed ignominiously.f 
None of them had been honored with a triumph. None 
of them had achieved any martial exploit, such as those by 
which Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, Titus Quinctius 
Capitolinus, Aulus Cornelius Cossus, and, above all, the 
the' great Camillus, had extorted the reluctant esteem of 
the multitude. During the Licinian conflict, Appius Clau- 
dius Crassus signalized himself by the ability and severity 
with which he harangued against the two great agitators. 
He would naturally, therefore, be the favorite mark of the 
Plebeian satirists ; nor would they have been at a loss to 
find a point on which he was open to attack. 

His grandfather, called, like himself, Appius Claudius, 
had left a name as much detested as that of Sextus Tar- 
quinius. This elder Appius had been Consul more than 
seventy years before the introduction of the Licinian laws. 
By availing himself of a singular crisis in public feeling, he 
had obtained the consent of the Commons to the abolition 
of the Tribuneship, and had been the chief of that Council 
of Ten to which the whole direction of the State had been 
committed. In a few months his administration had be- 
come universally odious. It had been swept away by an ir- 
resistible outbreak of popular fury ; and its memory was 
still held in abhorrence by the whole city. The immediate 
cause of the downfall of this execrable government was 
said to have been an attempt made by Appius Claudius 

* In the years of the city, 260, 304, and 330. 
t In the year of the city, 282. 



VIRGhWIA. 



99 



upon the chastity of a beautiful young girl of humble birth. 
The story ran that the Decemvir, unable to succeed by 
bribes and solicitations, resorted to an outrageous act of 
tyranny. A vile dependent of the Claudian house laid 
claim to the damsel as his slave. The cause was brought 
before the tribunal of Appius. The wicked magistrate, in 
defiance of the clearest proofs, gave judgment for the claim- 
ant. But the girl's father, a brave soldier, saved her from 
servitude and dishonor by stabbing her to the heart in the 
sight of the whole Forum. That blow was the signal for 
a general explosion. Camp and city rose at once ; the 
Ten were pulled down ; the Tribuneship was re-established ; 
and Appius escaped the hands of the executioner only by a 
voluntary death. 

It can hardly be doubted that a stor)' so admirably 
adapted to the purposes both of the poet and of the dema- 
gogue would be eagerly seized upon by minstrels burning 
with hatred against the Patrician order, against the Clau- 
dian house, and especially against the grandson and name- 
sake of the infamous Decemvir. 

In order that the reader may judge fairly of these frag- 
ments of the lay of Virginia, he must imagine himself a 
Plebeian who has just voted for the re-election of Sextius 
and Licinius. All the power of the Patricians has been 
exerted to throw out the two great champions of the Com- 
mons. Every Posthumius, -^milius, and Cornelius has 
used his influence to the utmost. Debtors have been let 
out of the workhouses on condition of voting against the 
men of the people : clients have been posted to hiss and 
interrupt the favorite candidates : Appius Claudius Crassus 
has spoken with more than his usual eloquence and as- 
perity : all has been in vain : Licinius and Sextius have a 
fifth time carried all the tribes : work is suspended : the 
booths are closed : the Plebeians bear on their shoulders 
the two champions of liberty through the Forum. Just at 



lOO LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

this moment it is announced that a popular poet, a zealous 
adherent of the Tribunes, has made a new song, which 
will cut the Claxidian nobles to the heart. The crowd 
gathers round him, and calls on him to recite it. He 
takes his stand on the spot where, according to tradition, 
Virginia, more than seventy years ago, was seized by the 
pandar of Appius, and he begins his story. 




VIRGINIA. 



FRAGMENTS OF A LAY SUNG IN THE FORUM ON THE 
DAY WHEREON LUCIUS SEXTIUS SEXTINUS LATER- 
ANUS AND CAIUS LICINIUS CALVUS STOLO WERE 
ELECTED TRIBUNES OF THE COMMONS THE FIFTH 
TIME, IN THE YEAR OF THE CITY, CCCLXXXII. 



Ye good men of the Commons, with lo\dng hearts 

and true. 
Who stand by the bold Tribunes that still have stood 

by you. 
Come, make a circle round me, and mark my tale 

with care, 
A tale of what Rome once hath borne, of what Rome 

yet may bear 
This is no Grecian fable, of fountains running wine, 
Of maids with snaky tresses, or sailors turned to 

swine. 
Here, in this very Forum, under the noonday sun. 
In sight of all the people, the bloody deed was done. 
Old men still creep among us who saw that fearful 

day, 
Just seventy years and seven ago, when the wicked 

Ten bare sway. 

Of all the wicked Ten still the names are held 
accursed, 



I.02 LA VS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

And of all the wicked Ten Appius Claudius was the 

worst. 
He stalked along the Forum like King Tarquin in his 

pride : 
Twelve axes waited on him, six marching on a side ; 
The townsmen shrank to right and left, and eyed 

askance with fear 
His lowering brow, his curling mouth, which always 

seemed to sneer : 
That brow of hate, that mouth of scorn, marks all the 

kindred still ; 
For never was there Claudius yet but wished the 

Commons ill ; 
Nor lacks he fit attendance ; for, close behind his 

heels, 
With outstretched chin and crouching pace the client 

Marcus steals. 
His loins girt up to run with speed, be the errand 

what it may. 
And the smile flickering on his cheek, for aught his 

lord may say. 
Such varlets pimp and jest for hire among the lying 

Greeks : 
Such varlets still are paid to hoot when brave Licinius 

speaks. 
Where'er ye shed the honey, the buzzing flies will 

crowd ; 
Where'er ye fling the carrion, the raven's croak is 

loud ; 
Where'er down Tiber garbage floats, the greedy pike 

ye see ; 
And wheresoe'er such lord is found, SMch client still 

will be. 



VIRGINIA. 103 

Just then, as through one cloudless chink in a black 

stormy sky, 
Shines out the dewy morning-star, a fair young girl 

came by. 
Witn her small tablets in her hand, and her satchel 

on her arm, 
Home she went bounding from the school, nor dreamed 

of shame or harm ; 
And past those dreaded axes she innocently ran. 
With bright, frank brow that had not learned to blush 

at gaze of man ; 
And up the Sacred Street she turned, and, as she 

danced along, 
She warbled gayly to herself lines of the good old song, 
How for a sport the princes came spurring from the 

camp, 
And found Lucrece, combing the fleece, under the 

midnight lamp. 
The maiden sang as sings the lark, when up he darts 

his flight, 
From his nest in the green April corn, to meet the 

morning light ; 
And Appius heard her sweet young voice, and saw 

her sweet young face, 
And loved her with the accursed love of his accursed 

race, 
And all along the Forum, and up the Sacred Street, 
His vulture eye pursued the trip of those small glanc- 
ing feet. 

Over the Alban mountains the light of morning 
broke ; 



104 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

From all the roofs of the Seven Hills curled the thin 

■ wreaths of smoke : 
The city-gates were opened ; the Forum all alive, 
With buyers and with sellers, was humming like a 

hive : 
Blithely on brass and timber the craftsman's stroke 

was ringing. 
And blithely o'er her panniers the market girl was 

singing, 
And blithely young Virginia came smiling frorn her 

home : " 

Ah ! woe for young Virginia, the sweetest maid in 

Rome ! 
With her small tablets in her hand, and her satchel 

on her arm, 
Forth she went bounding to the school, nor dreamed 

of shame or harm. 
She crossed the Forum shining with stalls in alleys 

gay, 

And just had reached the very spot whereon I stand 

this day, 
When up the varlet Marcus came ; not such as when 

erewhile 
He crouched behind his patron's heels with the true 

client smile: 
He came with lowering forehead, swollen features 

and clenched fist. 
And strode across Virginia's path, and caught her by 

the wrist. 
Hard strove the frighted maiden, and screamed with 

look aghast ; 
And at her scream from right and left the folk came 

running fast • 



VIRGINIA. 105 

The money-changer Crispus, with his thin silver 

hairs, 
And Hanno from the stately booth, glittering with 

Punic wares, 
And the strong smith Mursena, grasping a half-forged 

brand, 
And Volero the flesher, his cleaver in his hand. 
All came in wrath and wonder ; for all knew that fair 

child ; 
And, as she passed them twice a day, all kissed their 

hands and smiled ; 
And the strong smith Muraena gave Marcus such a 

blow, 
The caitiff reeled three paces back, and let the maiden 

go- 
Yet glared he fiercely round him, and growled in 

harsh, fell tone, 
" She's mine, and I will have her : I seek but for mine 

own : 
She is my slave, born in my house, and stolen away 

and sold, 
The year of the sore sickness, ere she was twelve 

hours old. 
'Twas in the sad September, the month of wail and 

fright, 
Two augurs were borne forth that morn ; the Consul 

died ere night. 
I wait on Appius Claudius, I waited on his sire : 
Let him who works the client wrong beware the 

patron's ire ! " 

So spake the varlet Marcus ; and dre^d and silence 
came 



io6 LAVS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

On all the people at the sound of the great Claudian 

name. 
For then there was no Tribune to speak the word of 

might, 
Which makes the rich man tremble, and guards the 

poor man's right. 
There was no brave Licinius, no honest Sextius then ; 
But all the city, in great fear, obeyed the wicked Ten. 
Yet ere the varlet Marcus again might seize the maid, 
Who clung tight to Muraena's skirt, and sobbed and 

shrieked for aid. 
Forth through the throng of gazers the young Icilius 

pressed, 
And stamped his foot, and rent his gown, and smote 

upon his breast, * 

And sprang upon that column, by many a minstrel 

sung. 
Whereon three mouldering helmets, three rusting 

swords, are hung. 
And beckoned to the people, and in bold voice and 

clear 
Poured thick and fast the burning words which tyrants 

quake to hear. 

" Now, by your children's cradles, now by your 

fathers' graves. 
Be men to-day, Quirites, or be for ever slaves ! 
For this did Servius give us laws ? For this did 

Lucrece bleed } 
For this was the great vengeance wrought on Tar- 

quin's evil seed .-" 
For this did those false sons make red the axes of 

their sire ? 



VIRGINIA. 



107 



For this did Scaevola's right hand hiss in the Tuscan 

fire ? 
Shall the vile fox-earth awe the race that stormed the 

lion's den ? 
Shall we, who could not brook one lord, crouch to the 

wicked Ten ? 
Oh for that ancient spirit which curbed the Senate's 

will ! 
Oh for the tents which in old time whitened the 

Sacred Hill ! 
In those' brave days our fathers stood firmly side by 

side ; 
They faced the Marcian fury ; they tamed the Fabian 

pride : 
They drove the fiercest Quinctius an outcast forth 

from Rome ; 
They sent the haughtiest Claudius with shivered 

fasces home. 
But what their care bequeathed us our madness flung 

away : 
All the ripe fruit of threescore years was blighted in 

a day. 
Exult, ye proud Patricians ! The hard-fought fight is 

o'er. 
We strove for honors — 'twas in vain : for freedom — 

'tis no more. 
No crier to the polling summons the eager throng ; 
No tribune breathes the word of might that guards 

the weak from wrong. 
Our very hearts, that were so high, sink down beneath 

your will. 
Riches, and lands, and power, and state — ye have 

them : — keep them still. 



io8 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

Still keep the holy fillets ; still keep the purple gown. 
The axes, and the curule chair, the car, and laurel 

crown : 
Still press us for your cohorts, and, when the fight is 

done, 
Still fill your garners from the soil which our good 

swords have won. 
Still, like a spreading ulcer, which leech-craft may 

not curej 
Let your foul usance eat away the substance of the 

poor. 
Still let your haggard debtors bear all their fathers 

bore ; 
Still let your dens of torment be noisome as of yore ; 
No fire when Tiber freezes ; no air in dog-star heat ; 
And store of rods for free-born backs, and holes for 

free-born feet. 
Heap heavier still the fetters ; bar closer still the 

grate ; 
Patient as sheep we yield us up unto your cruel 

hate. 
But, by the Shades beneath us, and by the gods 

above. 
Add not unto your cruel hate your yet more cruel 

love ! 
Have ye not graceful ladies, whose spotless lineage 

springs i 

From Consuls, and High Pontiffs, and ancient Alban 

kings .'' 
Ladies, who deign not on our paths to set their tender 

feet, 
Who from their cars look down with scorn upon the 

wondering street, 



VIRGINIA. 109 

Who in Corinthian mirrors their own proud smiles 

behold, 
And breathe of Capuan odors, and shine with 

Spanish gold ? 
Then leave the poor Plebeian his single tie to life — 
The sweet, sweet love of daughter, of sister, and of 

wife, 
The gentle speech, the balm for all that his vexed 

soul endures. 
The kiss, in which he half forgets 'even such a yoke 

as yours. 
Still let the maiden's beauty swell the father's breast 

with pride ; 
Still let the bridegroom's arms infold an unpolluted 

bride. 
Spare us the inexpiable wrong, the unutterable shame, 
That turns the coward's heart to steel, the sluggard's 

blood to flame. 
Lest, when our latest hope is fled, ye taste of our 

despair. 
And learn by proof, in some wild hour, how much the 

wretched dare." 

Straightway Virginius led the maid a little space 

aside, 
To where the reeking shambles stood, piled up with 

horn and hide. 
Close to yon low dark archway, where, in a crimson 

flood. 
Leaps down to the great sewer the gurgling stream 

of blood. 



I to LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

Hard by, a flesher on a block had laid his whittle 

down ; 
Virginius caught the whittle up, and hid it in his 

gown. 
And then his eyes grew very dim, and his throat 

began to swell, 
And in a hoarse, changed voice he spake, " Farewell, 

sweet child ! Farewell ! 
Oh ! how I loved my darling ! Though stern I some- 
times be, 
To thee, thou know'st I was not so. Who could be 

so to thee .'' 
And how my darling loved me ! How glad she was 

to hear 
My footstep on the threshold when I came back last 

year! 
And how she danced with pleasure to see my civic 

crown, 
And took my sword, and hung it up, and brought me 

forth my gown ! 
Now, all those things are over — yes, all thy pretty 

ways, 
Thy needlework, thy prattle, thy snatches of old 

lays ; 
And none will grieve when I go forth, or smile when 

I return, 
Or watch beside the old man's bed, or weep upon his 

urn. 
The house that was the happiest within the Roman 

walls, 
The house that envied not the wealth of Capua's 

marble halls. 



VIRGINIA. Ill 

Now, for the brightness of thy smile, must have 

eternal gloom, 
And for the music of thy voice, the silence of the 

tomb. 
The time is come. See how he points his eager hand 

this way ! 
See how his eyes gloat on thy grief, like a kite's upon 

the prey ! 
With all his wit, he little deems, that, spurned, be- 
trayed, bereft, 
Thy father hath in his despair one fearful refuge 

left. 
He little deems that in this hand I clutch what still 

can save 
Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows, the portion 

of the slave ; 
Yea, and from nameless evil, that passeth taunt and 

blow — 
Foul outrage which thou knowest not, which thou 

shalt never know. 
Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give 

me one more kiss ; 
And now, mine own dear little girl, there is no way 

but this." 
With that he lifted high the steel, and smote her in 

the side, 
And in her blood she sank to earth, and with one sob 

she died. 

Then, for a little moment, all people held their 
breath ; 
And through the crowded Forum was stillness as of 
death ; 



iia LAVS OF ANCIENT ROMU. 

And in another moment brake forth from one and 

all 
A cry as if the Volscians were coming o'er the wall. 
Some, with averted faces, shrieking, fled home amain ; 
Some ran to call a leech ; and some ran to lift the 

slain : 
Some felt her lips and little wrist, if Hfe might there 

be found ; 
And some tore up their garments fast, and strove to 

stanch the wound. 
In vain they ran, and felt, and stanched ; for never 

truer blow 
That good right arm had dealt in fight against a 

Volscian foe. 

When Appius Claudius Saw that deed, he shuddered 

and sank down. 
And hid his face some little space with the corner of 

his gown, 
Till, with white lips and bloodshot eyes, Virginius 

tottered nigh. 
And stood before the judgment-seat, and held the 

knife on high. 
" Oh ! dwellers in the nether gloom, avengers of the 

slain, , 

By this dear blood I cry to you, do right between us 

twain ; 
And even as Appius Claudius hath dealt by me and 

mine, 
Deal you by Appius Claudius and all the Claudian 

line ! " 
So spake the slayer of his child, and turned, and went 

his way * 



VIRGINIA. ■ 113 

But first he cast one haggard glance to where the 

body lay, 
And writhed, and groaned a fearful groan, and then 

with steadfast feet. 
Strode right across the market-place unto the Sacred 

Street. 



Then upsprang Appius Claudius : " Stop him ; alive 

or dead ! 
Ten thousand pounds of copper to the man who 

brings his head." 
He looked upon his clients ; but none would work his 

will. 
He looked upon his lictors ; but they trembled, and 

stood still. 
And as Virginius through the press his way in silence 

cleft, 
Ever the mighty multitude fell back to right and 

left. 
And he hath passed in safety unto his woeful home, 
And there ta'en horse to tell the camp what deeds are 

done in Rome. 

By this the flood of people was swollen from every 

side, 
And streets and porches round were filled with that 

o'erflowing tide ; 
And close around the body gathered a little train 
Of them that were the nearest and dearest to the 

slain. 
They brought a bier, and hung it with many a cypress 

crown, 



X 14 LA VS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

And gently they uplifted her, and gently laid her 

down. 
The face of Appius Claudius wore the Claudian scowl 

and sneer, 
And in the Claudian note he cried, " What doth this 

rabble here ? 
Have they no crafts to mind at home, that hitherward 

they stray ? 
Ho ! lictors, clear the market-place, and fetch the 

corpse away ! " 
The voice of grief and fury till then had not been 

loud ; 
But a deep, sullen murmur wandered among the 

crowd, 
Like the moaning noise that goes before the whirlwind 

on the deep, 
Or the growl of a fierce watch-dog but half-aroused 

from sleep. 
But when the lictors at that word, tall yeomen all and 

strong, 
Each with his axe and sheaf of twigs, went down into 

the throng. 
Those old men say, who saw that day of sorrow and 

of sin, 
That in the Roman Forum was never such a din. 
The wailing, hooting, cursing, the howls of grief and 

hate, 
Were heard beyond the Pincian Hill, beyond the 

Latin Gate. 
But close around the body, where stood the little 

train 
Of tfiem that were the nearest and dearest to the 

slain. 



VIRGINIA. 115 

No cries were there, but teeth set fast, low whispers 

and black frowns. 
And breaking up of benches, and girding up of gowns. 
'Twas well the lictors might not pierce to where the 

maiden lay, 
Else surely had they been all twelve torn limb from 

limb that day. 
Right glad they were to struggle back, blood stream- 
ing from their heads, 
With axes all in splinters, and raiment all in shreds. 
Then Appius Claudius gnawed his lip, and the blood 

left his cheek ; 
And thrice he beckoned with his hand, and thrice he 

strove to speak ; 
And thrice the tossing Forum set up a frightful yell ; 
" See, see, thou dog ! what thou hast done ; and hide 

thy shame in hell ! 
Thou that wouldst make our maidens slaves must first 

make slaves of men. 
Tribunes ! Hurrah for Tribunes ! Down with the 

wicked Ten ! " 
And straightway, thick as hailstones, came whizzing 

through the air. 
Pebbles, and bricks, and potsherds, all round the curule 

chair : 
And upon Appius Claudius great fear and trembling 

came ; 
For never was a Claudius yet brave against aught but 

shame. 
Though the great houses love us not, we own, to do 

them right, 
That the great houses, all save one, have borne them 

well in fight 



1 16 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

Still Caius of Corioli, his triumphs and his wrongs, 
His vengeance and his mercy, live in our camp-fire 

songs. 
Beneath the yoke of Furius oft have Gaul and Tuscan 

bowed ; 
And Rome may bear the pride of him of whom her- 
self is proud. 
But evermore a Claudius shrinks from a stricken 

field, 
And changes color like a maid at sight of sword and 

shield. 
The Claudian triumphs all were won within the city 

towers ; 
The Claudian yoke was never pressed on any necks 

but ours. 
A Cossus, like a wild-cat, springs ever at the face ; 
A Fabius rushes like a boar against the shouting 

chase ; 
But the vile Claudian litter, raging with currish spite, 
Still yelps and snaps at those who run, still runs from 

those who smite. 
So now 'twas seen of Appius. When stones began to 

fly. 

He shook, and crouched, and wrung his hands, and 
smote upon his thigh. 

"Kind clients, honest lictors, stand by me in this 
fray ! 

Must I be torn in pieces ? Home, home, the nearest 
way!" ■ 

While yet he spake, and looked around with a bewil- 
dered stare, 

Four sturdy lictors put their necks ben'^ath the curule 
chair ; 



VIRGINIA. 117 

And fourscore clients on the left, and fourscore on 

the right, 
Arrayed themselves with swords and staves, and loins 

girt up for fight. • 

But, though without or staff or sword, so furious was 

the throng, 
That scarce the train with might and main could bring 

their lord along. 
Twelve times the crowd made at him ; five times they 

seized his gown ; 
Small chance was his to rise again, if once they got 

him down : 
And sharper came the pelting ; and evermore the 

yell— 
" Tribunes ! we will have Tribunes ! " — rose with a 

louder swell : 
And the chair tossed as tosses a bark with tattered 

sail 
When raves the Adriatic beneath an eastern gale, 
When the Calabrian sea-marks are lost in clouds of 

spume. 
And the great Thunder-Cape has donned his veil of 

inky gloom. 
One stone hit Appius in the mouth, and one beneath 

the ear ; 
And ere he reached Mount Palatine, he swooned with 

pain and fear. 
His cursed head, that he was wont to hold so high 

with pride. 
Now, like a drunken man's, hung down, and swayed 

from side to side ; 
And when his stout retainers had brought him to his 

door, 



1 18 LAVS or ANCIENT ROME. 

His face and neck were all one cake of filth and clotted 

gore. 
As Appius Claudius was that day, s^ may his grandson 

be! ^ ♦ 
God send Rome one such other sight, and send me 

there to see ! 




THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 



It can hardly be necessary to remind any reader that 
according to the popular tradition, Romulus, after he had 
slain his grand-uncle Amulius, and restored his grand- 
father Numitor, determined to quit Alba, the hereditary 
domain of. the Sylvian princes, and to found a new city. 
The gods, it was added, vouchsafed the clearest signs of 
the favor with which they regarded the enterprise, and of 
the high destinies reserved for the young colony. 

This event was likely to be a favorite theme of the old 
Latin minstrels. They would naturally attribute the pro- 
ject of Romulus to some divine intimation of the power 
and prosperity which it was decreed that his city should 
attain. They would probably introduce seers, foretelling 
the victories of unborn Consuls and Dictators ; and the 
last great victory would generally occupy the most con- 
spicuous place in the prediction. There is nothing strange 
in the supposition that the poet who was employed to 
celebrate the first great triumph of the Romans over 
the Greeks might throw his song of exultation into this 
form. 

The occasion was one likely to excite the strongest 
feelings of national pride. A great outrage had been 
followed by a great retribution. Seven years before this 



I20 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

time, Lucius Posthumius Megellus, who sprung from one 
of the noblest houses of Rome, and had been thrice Con- 
sul, was sent Ambassador to Tarentum, with charge to 
demand reparation for grievous injuries. The Tarendnes 
gave him audience in their theatre, where he addressed ' 
them in such Greek as he could command, which, we may 
believe, was not exactly such as Cineas would have spoken. 
An exquisite sense of the ridiculous belonged to the Greek 
character ; and closely connected with this faculty was a 
strong propensity to flippancy and impertinence. When 
Posthumius placed an accent wrong, his hearers burst into 
a laugh. When he remonstrated, they hooted him, and 
called him barbarian ; and at length hissed him off the 
stage as if he had been a bad actor. As the grave Roman 
retired, a buffoon who, from his constant drunkenness, was 
nicknamed the Pint-pot, came up with gestures of the 
grossest indecency, and bespattered the senatorial gown 
with filth. Posthumius turned round to the multitude, and 
held up the gown, as if appealing to the universal law of 
nations. The sight only increased the insolence of the 
Tarentines. They clapped their hands, and set up a shout 
of laughter which shook the theatre. " Men of Tarentum," 
said Posthumius, " it will take not a little blood to wash 
this gown." * 

Rome, in consequence of this insult, declared war against 
the Tarentines. The Tarentines sought for allies beyond 
the Ionian Sea. Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, came to their 
help with a large army ; and, for the first time, the two 
great nations of antiquity were fairly matched against each 
other. 

The fame of Greece in arms, as well as in arts, was then 
at the height. Half a century earlier, the career of Alex- 
ander had excited the admiration and terror of all nations 

* Dion. Hal. De Legationibus 



THE PROPHECY OF CAP VS. 121 

from the Ganges to the Pillars of Hercules. Royal houses, 
founded by Macedonian captains, still reigned at Antioch 
and Alexandria. That barbarian warriors, led by barbarian 
chiefs, should win a pitched battle against Greek valor, 
guided by Greek science, seemed as incredible as it would 
now seem that the Burmese or the Siamese should, in the 
open plain, put to flight an equal number of the best Eng- 
lish troops. The Tarentines were convinced that their 
countrymen were irresistible in war ; and this conviction 
had emboldened them to treat with the grossest indignity 
one whom they regarded as the representative of an infe- 
rior race. Of the Greek generals then living, Pyrrhus 
was indisputably the first. Among the troops who were 
trained in the Greek discipline, his Epirotes ranked high. 
His expedition to Italy was a turning-point in the history 
of the world. He found there a people who, far inferior 
to the Athenians and Corinthians in the fine arts, in the 
speculative sciences, and in all the refinements of life, were 
the best soldiers on the face of the earth. Their arms, 
their gradations of rank, their order of battle, their method 
of intrenchment, were all of Latian origin, and had all 
been gradually brought near to perfection, not by the study 
of foreign models, but by the genius and experience of 
many generations of great native commanders. The first 
words which broke from the king, when his practised eye 
had surveyed the Roman encampment, were full of mean- 
ing : — " These barbarians," he said, " have nothing barba- 
rous in their military arrangements," He was at first 
victorious ; for his own talents were superior to those of 
the captains who were opposed to him ; and the Romans 
were not prepared for the onset of the elephants of the 
East, which were then for the first time seen in Italy — 
moving mountains, with long snakes for hands.* But the 

* Anguimanus is the old Latin epithet for an elephant. Lucretius, ii. 
538, V. 1302. 



122 LAVS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

victories of the Epirotes were fiercely disputed, dearly 
purchased, and altogether unprofitable. At length, Manius 
Curius Dentatus, who had in his first Consulship won two 
triumphs, was again placed at the head of the Roman 
Commonwealth, and sent to encounter the invaders. A 
great battle was fought near Beneventuni. Pyrrhus was 
completely defeated. He repassed the sea ; and the world 
learned, with amazement, that a people had been dis- 
covered, who, in fair fighting, were superior to the best 
troops that had been drilled on the system of Parmenio 
and Antigonus. 

The conquerors had a good right to exult in their suc- 
cess ; for the glory was all their own. They had not 
learned from their enemy how to conquer him. It was 
with their own national arms, and in their own national 
battle-array, that they had overcome weapons and tactics 
long believed to be invincible. The pilum and the broad- 
sword had vanquished the Macedonian spear. The legion 
had broken the Macedonian phalanx. Even the elephants, 
when the surprise produced by their first appearance was 
over^ could cause no disorder in the steady yet flexible 
battalions of Rome. 

It is said by Florus, and may easily be believed, that the 
triumph far surpassed in magnificence any that Rome had 
previously seen. The only spoils which Papirius Cursor 
and Fabius Maximus could exhibit were flocks and herds, 
wagons of rude structure, and heaps of spears and helmets. 
But now, for the first time, the riches of Asia and the arts 
of Greece adorned a Roman pageant. Plate, fine stuffs, 
costly furniture, rare animals, exquisite paintings and 
sculptures, formed part of the procession. At the banquet 
would be assembled a crowd of warriors and statesmen, 
among whom Manius Curius Dentatus would take the 
highest room. Caius Fabricius Luscinus, then, after two 
Consulships and two triumphs. Censor of the Common- 



THE PROPHECY OF CAP VS. 123 

wealth, would doubtless occupy a place of honor at the 
board. In situations less conspicuous probably lay some 
of those who were, a few years later, the terror of Carthage ; 
Caius Duilius, the founder of the maritime greatness of his 
country ; Marcus Atilius Regulus, who owed to defeat a 
renown far higher than that which he had derived from his 
victories ; and Caius Lutatius Catulus, who, while suffer- 
ing from a grievous wound, fought the great battle of the 
-Agates, and brought the first Punic war to a triumphant 
close. It is impossible to recount the names of these 
eminent citizens, without reflecting that they were all, 
without exception, Plebeians, and would, but for the ever- 
, memorable struggle maintained by Caius Licinius and 
Lucius Sextius, have been doomed to hide in obscurity, or 
to waste in civil broils, the capacity and energy which 
prevailed against Pyrrhus and Hamilcar. 

On such a day we may suppose that the patriotic enthu- 
siasm of a Latin poet would vent itself in reiterated shouts 
of lo U'iujnphe, such as were uttered by Horace on a far 
less exciting occasion, and in boasts resembling those which 
Virgil put into the mouth of Anchises. The superiority 
of some foreign nations, and especially of the Greeks, in 
the lazy arts of peace, would be admitted with disdainful 
candor ; but pre-eminence in all the qualities which fit a 
people to subdue and govern mankind would be claimed 
for the Romans. 

The following lay belongs to the latest age of Latin 
ballad-poetry. Naevius and Livius Andronicus were prob- 
ably among the children whose mothers held them up to 
see the chariot of Curius go by. The minstrel who sang 
on that day might possibly have lived to read the first 
hexameters of Ennius, and to see the first comedies of 
Plautus. His poem, as might be expected, shows a much 
wider acquaintance with the geography, manners, and pro- 
ductions of remote nations, than would have been found 



124 -^^ ^-^ ^^ ANCIENT ROME. 

in compositions of the age of Camillus. But he troubles him- 
self little about dates, and having heard travellers talk with 
admiration of the Colossus of Rhodes, and of the structures 
and gardens with which the Macedonian kings of Syria 
had embellished their residence on the banks of the Oron- 
tes, he has never thought of inquiring whether these things 
existed in the age of Romulus. 




THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 

A LAY SUNG AT THE BANQUET IN THE CAPITOL, ON 
THE DAY WHEREON MANIUS CURIUS DENTATUS, 
A SECOND TIME CONSUL TRIUMPHED OVER KING 
PYRRHUS AND THE TARENTINES, IN THE YEAR 
OF THE CITY CCCCLXXIX. 



Now slain is King Amulius, 

Of the great Sylvian line, 
Who reigned in Alba Longa, 

On the throne of Aventine. 
Slain is the Pontiff Gamers, 

Who spake the words of doom 
" The children to the Tiber ; 

The mother to the tomb." 
II. 
In Alba's lake no fisher 
, ■ His net to-day is flinging : 

11 On the dark rind of Alba's oaks 

To-day no axe is ringing : 
The yoke hangs o'er the manger 

The scythe lies in the hay : 
Through all the Alban villages 

No work is done to-day. 



126 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

III. 

And every Alban burgher 

Hath donned his whitest gown ; 
And every head in Alba 

Weareth a poplar crown ; 
And every Alban door-post 

With boughs and flowers is gay : 
For to-day the dead are living ; 

The lost are found to-day. 

IV. 

They were doomed by a bloody king': 

They were doomed by a lying priest : 
They were cast on the raging flood : 

They were tracked by the raging beast ; 
Raging beast and raging flood 

Alike have spared the prey ; 
And to-day the dead are living : 

The lost are found to-day. 

v. 
The troubled river knew them, 

And smoothed his yellow foam, 
And gently rocked the cradle 

That bore the fate of Rome. 
The ravening she-wolf knew them. 

And licked them o'er and o'er, 
And gave them of her own fierce milk, 

Rich with raw flesh and gore. 
Twenty winters, twenty springs, 

Since then have rolled away ; 
And to-day the dead are living : 

The lost are found to-day. 



THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 127 

VI. 

Blithe it was to see the twins, 

Right goodly youths and tall, 
Marching from Alba Longa 

- To their old grandsire's hall. 
Along their path fresh garlands 

Are hung from tree to tree : 
Before them stride the pipers, 

Piping a note of glee. * 

VII. 

On the right goes Romulus, 

With arms to the elbows red. 
And in his hand, a broadsword, 

And on the blade a head — 
A head in an iron helmet, 

With horse-hair hanging down, 
A shaggy head, a swarthy head. 

Fixed in a ghastly frown — 
The head of King Amulius 

Of the great Sylvian line. 
Who reigned in Alba Longa, 

On the throne of Aventine. 

VIII. 

On the left side goes Remus, 

With wrists and fingers red. 
And in his hand a boar-spear, 

And on the point a head — 
A wrinkled head and aged, 

With silver beard and hair, 
And holy fillets round it, 

Such as the pontiffs wear 



128 LAVS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

The head of ancient Gamers, 
Who spake the words of doom : 

** The children to the Tiber ; 
The mother to the tomb." 

IX. 

Two and two behind the twins 

Their trusty comrades go, 
Four-and-forty valiant men, 

With club, and axe, and bow. 
On each side every hamlet 

Pours forth its joyous crowd, 
Shouting lads and baying dogs 

And children laughing loud, 
And old men weeping fondly 

As Rhea's boys go by. 
And maids who shriek to see the heads. 

Yet, shrieking, press more nigh. 

X. 

So they marched along the lake ; 

They marched by fold and stall, 
By corn-field and by vineyard, 

Unto the old man's hall. 

XI, 

In the hall-gate sat Capys, 

Capys, the sightless seer ; 
From head to foot he trembled 

As Romulus drew near. 
And up stood stiff his thin white hair, 

And his blind eyes flashed fire : 
" Hail ! foster child of the wondrous nurse 

Hail ! son of the wondrous sire ! 



THE PROPHECY OF CAP VS. 129 

XII. 

** But thou — what dost thou here 

In the old man's peaceful hall ? 
What doth the eagle in the coop, 

The bison in the stall ? 
Our corn fills many a garner ; 

Our vines clasp many a tree ; 
Our flocks are white on many a hill ; 

But these are not for thee. 

XIII. 

" For thee no treasure ripens 

In the Tartessian mine : 
For thee no ship brings precious bales 

Across the Libyan brine : 
Thou shalt not drink from amber ; 

Thou shalt not rest on down ; 
Arabia shall not steep thy locks, 

Nor Sidon tinge thy gown. 

XIV. 

" Leave gold and myrrh and jewels, 

Rich table and soft bed, 
To them who of man's seed are born, 

Whom woman's milk have fed. 
Thou wast not made for lucre, 

For pleasure nor for rest ; 
Thou that art sprung from the War-god's loins, 

And hast tugged at the she-wolf's breast. 



I30 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

XV. 

" From sunrise unto sunset 

All earth shall hear thy fame : 
A glorious city thou shalt build, 

And name it by thy name : 
And there, unquenched through ages. 

Like Vesta's sacred fire, 
Shall live the spirit of thy nurse, 

The spirit of thy sire. - 

XVI. 

" The ox toils through the furrow, 

Obedient to the goad ; 
The patient ass, up flinty paths, 

Plods with his weary load ; 
With whine and bound the spaniel 

His master's whistle hears ; 
And the sheep yields her patiently 

To the loud clashing shears, 

XVII. 

" But thy nurse will hear no master ; 

Thy nurse will bear no load ; 
And woe to them that shear her. 

And woe to them that goad ! 
When all the pack, loud baying. 

Her bloody lair surrounds, 
She dies in silence, biting hard, 

Amidst the dying hounds. 



THE PROPHECY OF CAP VS. 131 

XVIII. 

" Pomona loves the orchard ; 

And Liber loves the vine ; 
And Pales loves the straw-built shed 

Warm with the breath of kine ; 
And Venus loves the whispers 

Of plighted youth and maid, 
In April's ivory moonlight 

Beneath the chestnut shade. 

XIX. 

" But thy father loves the clashing 

Of broadsword and of shield : 
He loves to drink the stream that reeks 

From the fresh battle-field : 
He smiles a smile more dreadful 

Than his own dreadful frown, 
When he sees the thick black cloud of smoke 

Go up from the conquered town. 

XX. 

" And such as is the War-god, 

The author of thy line. 
And such as she who suckled thee, 

Even such be thou and thine. 
Leave to the soft Campanian 

His baths and his perfumes ; 
Leave to the sordid race of Tyre 

Their dyeing- vats and looms : 
Leave to the sons of Carthage 

The rudder and the oar : 
Leave to the Greek his marble Nymphs 

And scrolls of wordy lore. 



132 



LA VS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
XXI, 

" Thine, Roman, is the pilum : 

Roman, the sword is thine, 
The even trench, the bristUng mound, 

The legion's ordered Hne ; 
And thine the wheels of triumph, 

Which, with their laurelled train, 
Move slowly up the shouting streets 

To Jove's eternal fane. 

XXII. 

" Beneath thy yoke the Volscian 

Shall vail his lofty brow : 
Soft Capua's curled revellers 

Before thy chairs shall bow : 
The Lucumoes of Arnus 

Shall quake thy rods to see ; 
And the proud Samnite's heart of steel 

Shall yield to only thee. 

XXIII, 

" The Gaul shall come against thee 
From the land of snow and night : 

Thou shalt give his fair-haired armies 
To the raven and the kite. 

XXIV. 

" The Greek shall come against thee. 

The conqueror of the East. 
Beside him stalks to battle 

The huge earth-shaking beast, 
The beast on whom the castle 

With all its guards doth stand. 
The beast who hath between his eyes 

The serpent for a hand. 



THE PROPHECY OF CAP VS. 

First march the bold Epirotes, 

Wedged close with shield and spear ; 

And the ranks of false Tarentum 
Are glittering in the rear. 

XXV. 

*' The ranks of false Tarentum 

Like hunted sheep shall fly : 
In vain the bold Epirotes 

Shall round their standards die : 
And Apennine's grey vultures 

Shall have a noble feast 
On the fat and the eyes 

Of the huge earth-shaking beast. 

xxvr. 
" Hurrah ! for the good weapons 

That keep the War-god's land. 
Hurrah ! for Rome's stout pilum 

In a stout Roman hand. 
Hurrah ! for Rome's short broadsword. 

That through the thick array 
Of levelled spears and serried shields 

Hews deep its gory way. 

xxvii. 
"hurrah !*for the great triumph 

That stretches many a mile. 
Hurrah ! for the wan captives 

That pass in endless file. 
Ho ! bold Epirotes, whither 

Hath the Red King ta'en flight > 
Ho ! dogs of false g'arentum, 

Is not the gown washed white > 



^33 



^34 



LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
XXVIII. 

" Hurrah ! for the great triumph 

That stretches many a mile. 
Hurrah ! for the rich dye of Tyre, 

And the fine web of Nile, 
The helmets gay with plumage 

Torn from the pheasant's wings, 
The belts set thick with starry gems 

That shone on Indian kings. 
The urns of massy silver. 

The goblets rough with gold. 
The many-colored tablets bright 

With loves and wars of old, 
The stone that breathes and struggles, 

The brass that seems to speak ; — 
Such cunning they who dwell on high 

Have given unto the Greek. 

• XXIX. 

" Hurrah ! for Manius Curius, 

The bravest son of Rome, 
Thrice in utmost need sent forth, 

Thrice drawn in triumph home. 
Weave, weave, for Manius Tlurius , 

The third embroidered gown : 
Make ready the third lofty car, 

And twine the third green crown ; 
And yoke the steeds of Rosea 

With necks like a bended bow. 
And deck the buljj Mevania's bull, 

The bull as white as snow. 



THE PROPHECY OF CAP VS. 135 

XXX. 

** Blest and thrice blest the Roman 

Who sees Rome's brightest day, 
Who sees that long victorious pomp 

Wind down the Sacred Way, 
And through the bellowing Forum 

And round the Suppliant's Grove, 
Up to the everlasting gates 

Of Capitolian Jove. 

XXXI. 

"Then where, o'er two bright havens. 

The towers of Corinth frown ; 
Where the gigantic King of Day 

On his own Rhodes looks down ; 
Where soft Orontes murmurs 

Beneath the laurel shades ; 
Where Nile reflects the endless length 

Of dark-red colonnades ; 
Where in the still deep water, 

Sheltered from waves and blasts, 
Bristles the dusky forest 

Of Byrsa's thousand masts; 
Where fur-clad hunters wander 

Amidst the northern ice ; 
Where through the sand of morning-land 

The camel bears the spice ; 
Where Atlas flings his shadow 

Far o'er the western foam, 
Shall be great fear on all who hear 

The mighty name of Rome." 



^^g 


K|^ 






±aij»jap\^jBra| 


^^^ 


^^^S 






pg^P^fe^gl 


^m 


mM 


Wii^Sd 


JKv^M 


3^^^^ 



I VRY : 

A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS. 



Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories 

are ! 
And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of 

Navarre ! 
Now let there be the merry sound of music and of 

dance, 
Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, oh 

pleasant land of France ! 
And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the 

waters. 
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning 

daughters. 
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, 
For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy 

walls annoy. 
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! a single field hath turned the chance 

of war, 
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre. 

Oh ! how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn 

of day, , 
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long 

array ; 
136 



A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS. 137 

With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers, 
And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish 

spears. 
There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of 

our land ; 
And dark Mayehne was in the midst, a truncheon in 

his hand : 
And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's 

empurpled flood. 
And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his 

blood ; 
And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate 

of war. 
To fight for His own holy name, and Henry of 

Navarre. 

The King is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, 

And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gal- 
lant crest. 

He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye ; 

He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern 
and high. 

Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing 
to wing, 

Down all our line, a deafening shout, " God save our 
Lord the King ! " 

" And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he 
may, 

For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, 

Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst 
the ranks of war. 

And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre." 



138 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

Hurrah ! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled 

din 
Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring 

culverin. 
The fiery Duke is pricking fast across Saint Andr 's 

plain, 
With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne, 
Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of 

France, 
Charge for the golden lilies, — upon them with the 

lance ! 
A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears 

in rest, 
A thousand knights are pressing close behind the 

snow-white crest ; 
And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a 

guiding star. 
Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of 

Navarre. , 

Now, God be praised, the day is ours. Mayenne hath 

turned his rein. 
D' Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish count 

is slain. 
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a 

Biscay gale ; 
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and 

cloven mail. 
And then we thought on vengeance, and, all along our 

van, 
" Remember St. Bartholomew," was passed from man 

to man. [foe : 

But out spake gentle Henry, "No Frenchman is my 



A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS. 139 

' Down, down with every foreigner, but let your breth- 
ren go.' " 

Oh ! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in 
war, 

As our Sovereign Lord, King Henry, the soldier of 
Navarre ? 

Right well fought all the Frenchmen who fought for 
France to-day, 

And many a lordly banner God gave them for a prey. 

But we of the religion have borne us best in fight ; 

And the good Lord of Rosny has ta'en the cornet 
white. 

Our own true Maximilian the cornet white hath 
ta'en. 

The cornet white with black, the flag of false Lor- 
raine. 

Up with it high ; unfurl it wide ; that all the host may 
know 

How God hath humbled the proud house which 
wrought His church such woe. 

Then on the ground, while trumpets sound their 
loudest point of war, 

Fling the red shreds, a footcloth meet for Henry of 
Navarre. 

Ho ! maidens of Vienna ; Ho ! matrons of Lucerne ; 
Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never 

shall return. 
Ho ! PhHip, send, for charity, the Mexican pistoles, 
That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor 

spearmen's souls. 
Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that your 

arms be bright ; 



140 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

Ho ! burghers of Saint Genevieve, keep watch and 

ward to-night. 
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath 

raised the slave, 
And mocked the counsel of the wise, and the valor of 

the brave. 
Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories 

are ; 
And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King iFIenry of 

Navarre. 

1824 




THE ARMADA 



A FRAGMENT. 



Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England's 

praise ; 
I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in 

ancient days, 
When that great fleet invincible against her bore in 

vain 
The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of 

Spain. 



It was about the lovely close of a warm summer day, 
There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to 

Plymouth Bay ; 
Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet, beyond 

Aurigny's isle, 
At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many a 

mile. 
At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial 

grace ; 
And the tall Pinta, till the neon, had held her close in 

chase. 
Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the 

wall ; 



142 LA VS OF ANCIENT ROME. 

The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe's lofty 

hall; 
Many a light fishing-bark put out to pry along the 

coast, 
And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland many 

a post. 
With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old sheriff 

comes ; 
Behind him march the halberdiers ; before him sound 

the drums ; 
His yeomen round the market cross make clear an 

ample space ; 
For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her 

Grace. 
And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gayly dance the 

bells, 
As slow upon the laboring wind the royal blazon 

swells. 
Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown, 
And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies 

down. 
So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed 

Picard field, 
Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Caesar's eagle 

shield. 
So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned to 

bay, 
And crushed and torn beneath his claws the princely 

hunters lay. 
Ho ! strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight : Ho ! scatter 

flowers, fair maids : 
Ho ! gunners, fire a loud salute : Ho ! gallants, draw 

your blades : 



THE ARMADA. 



143 



Thou sun, shine on her joyously ; ye breezes, waft her 

wide ; 
Our glorious semper eadem. the banner of our pride. 
The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that ban- 
ner's massy fold 
The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty 

scroll of gold 
Night sank upon the dusky beach and on the purple 

sea, 
Such night in England ne'er had been, nor ne'er again 

shall be. 
From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to 

Milford Bay, 
That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the 

-day; 
For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly war- 
flame spread, 
High on St. Michael's Mount it shone : it shone on 

Beachy Head. 
Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each southern 

shire, 
Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling 

points of fire. 
The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar's glittering 

waves : 
The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip's sunless 

caves : 
O'er Longleat"s towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks, the 

fiery herald flew : 
He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, the rangers 

of Beaulieu. 
Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang out from 

Bristol town. 



144 ^^^ ^'-^ OF ANCIENT ROME. 

And ere the day three hundred horse had met on 

Chfton down ; 
The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the 

night, 
And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill the streak of 

blood-red light. 
Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the deathlike 

silence broke, [woke. 

And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city 
At once on all her stately gates arose the answering 

fires ; 
At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling 

spires ; 
From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the 

voice of fear ; 
And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a 

louder cheer : 
And from the furthest wards was heard the rush of 

hurrying feet. 
And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed down 

each roaring street ; 
And broader still became the blaze, and louder still 

the din. 
As fast from every village round the horse came spur- 
ring in : 
And eastward straight from wild Blackheath the war- 
like errand went, 
And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant squires 

of Kent. 
Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills flew those 

bright couriers forth ; 
High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they started 

for the north ; 



THE ARMADA. 145 

And on, and on, without a pause, un tired they bounded 
still : 

All night from tower to tower they sprang ; they sprang 
from hill to hill : 

Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er Darwin's 
rocky dales, 

-Till, like volcanoes, flared to heaven the stormy hills of 
Wales, 

Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's 
lonely height, 

Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin's crest 
of light. 

Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely's stately 
fane. 

And tower and hamlet rose in arms o'er all the bound- 
less plain ; 

Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln sent, 

And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide vale 
of Trent ; 

Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's em- 
battled pile. 

And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of 
Carlisle. 

1832. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
INSCRIPTIONS, ETC. 



^ 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, IN- 
SCRIPTIONS, ETC 



I 



EPITAPH ON HENRY MARTYN. 
(1812.) 
Here Martyn lies. In Manhood's early bloom 
The Christian Hero finds a Pagan tomb. 
Religion, sorrowing o'er her favorite son, 
Points to the glorious trophies that he won. 
Eternal trophies ! not with carnage red, 
Not stained with tears by hapless captives shed, 
But trophies of the Cross ! for that dear name, 
Through every form of danger, death, and shame, 
Onward he journeyed to a happier shore, 
Where danger, death, and shame assault no more. 



LINES TO THE MEMORY OF PITT. 

(1813.) 
Oh Britain ! dear Isle, when the annals of story 

Shall tell of the deeds that thy children have done, 
When the strains of each poet shall sing of their glory. 
And the triumphs their skill and their valor have 
won. 



ISO MISCEL7.ANE0US POEMS. 

When the olive and palm in thy chaplet are blended, 
When thy arts, and thy fame, and thy commerce 
increase, 
When thy arms through the uttermost coasts are ex- 
tended. 
And thy war is triumphant, and happy thy peace ; 

When the ocean, whose waves hke a rampart flow 
round thee, 
Conveying thy mandates to every shore. 
And the empire of nature no longer can bound thee, 
And the world be the scene of thy conquests no 
more : 

Remember the man who in sorrow and danger. 
When thy glory was set, and thy spirit was low, 

When thy hopes were o'erturned by the arms of the 
stranger, 
And thy banners displayed in the halls of the foe, 

Stood forth in the tempest of doubt and disaster, 
Unaided, and single, the danger to brave. 

Asserted thy claims, and the rights of his master. 
Preserved thee to conquer, and saved thee to save. 



A RADICAL WAR SONG. 

(1820.) 
Awake, arise, the hour is come, 
For rows and revolutions ; 
There's no receipt like pike and drum 
For crazy constitutions. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 151 

Close, close the shop ! Break, break the loom. 

Desert your hearths and furrows, 
And throng in arms to seal the doom 

Of England's rotten boroughs. 



We'll stretch that tort'ring Castlereagh 

On his own Dublin rack, sir ; 
We'll drown the King in Eau de vie, 

The Laureate in his sack, sir, 
Old Eldon and his sordid hag 

In molten gold we'll smother, 
And stifle in his own green bag 

The Doctor and his brother. 



In chains we'll hang in fair Guildhall 

The City's famed Recorder, 
And next on proud St. Stephen's fall, 

Though Wynne should squeak to order. 
In vain our tyrants then shall try 

To 'scape our martial law, sir ; 
In vain the trembling Speaker cry 

That " Strangers must withdraw," sir. 

Copley to hang offends no text • 

A rat is not a man, sir : 
With schedules, and with tax bills next 

We'll bury pious Van, sir. 
The slaves who loved the Income Tax, 

We'll crush by scores, like mites, sir. 
And him, the wretch who freed the blacks, 

And more enslaved the whites, sir. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

The peer shall dangle from his gate, 

The bishop from his steeple, 
Till all recanting, own, the State 

Means nothing but the People. 
We'll fix the church's revenues 

On Apostolic basis. 
One coat, one scrip, one pair of shoes 

Shall pay their strange grimaces. 



We'll strap the bar's deluding train 

In their own darling halter, 
And with his big church bible brain 

The parson at the altar. 
Hail glorious hour, when fair Reform 

Shall bless our longing nation, 
And Hunt receive commands to form 

A new administration. 



Carlisle shall sit enthroned, where sat 

Our Cranmer and our Seeker ; 
•And Watson show his snow-white hat 

In England's rich Exchequer. 
The breast of Thistlewood shall wear 

Our Wellesley's star and sash, man: 
And many a mausoleum fair 

Shall rise to honest Cashman. 



Then, then beneath the nine-tailed cat 
Shall they who used it writhe, sir; 

And curates lean, and rectors fat, 
Shall dig the ground they tithe, sir. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 153 

pown with your Bayleys, and your Bests, 

Your Giffords, and your Gurneys : 
We '11 clear the island of the pests, 

Which mortals name attorneys. 

Down with your sheriffs, and your mayors. 

Your registrars, and proctors, 
We '11 live without the lawyer's cares. 

And die without the doctor's. 
No discontented fair shall pout 

To see her spouse so stupid ; 
We 11 tread the torch of Hymen out. 

And live content with Cupid. 

Then, w^en the high-born and the great 

Are humbled to our level, 
On all the wealth of Church and State, 

Like aldermen, we'll revel. ^ 

We '11 live when hushed the battle's din. 

In smoking and in cards, sir 
In drinking unexcised gin. 

And wooing fair Poissardes, sir. 



THE BATTLE OF MONCONTOUR. 
824.) 
C^H, weep for Moncontour ! Oh ! weep for the hour, 
^Vhen the children of darkness and evil had power, 
"Vyhen the horsemen of Valois triumphantl}' trod 
C n the bosoms that bled for their rights and their 
God. 



154 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Oh, weep for Moncontour ! Oh ! weep for the slain, 
Who for faith and for freedom lay slaughtered in vain ; 
Oh, weep for the living, who linger to bear 
The renegade's shame, or the exile's despair. 

One look, one last look, to our cots and our towers, 
To the rows of our vines, and the beds of our flowers, 
To the church where the bones of our fathers decayed, 
Where we fondly had dreamed that our own would be 
laid. 

Alas ! we must leave thee, dear desolate home. 
To the spearmen of Uri, the shavelings of Rome, 
To the serpent of Florence, the vulture of Spain, 
To the pride of Anjou, and the guile of Lorraine. 

Farewell to thy fountains, farewell to thy shades, 

To the song of thy youths, and the dance of thy 

maids. 
To the breath of thy gardens, the hum of thy bees, 
And the long waving line of the blue Pyrenees. 

Farewell, and for ever. The priest and the slave 
May rule in the halls of the free and the brave. 
Our hearths we abandon ; our lands we resign ; 
But, Father, we kneel to no altar but thine. 



MISCELLANEOUS FOEMS. 155 



THE BATTLE OF NASEBY, 

By OBADIAH-BlND-THEIR-KINGS-IN-CHAINS-AND-THEIR-NOBt.ES-WITH 
LINKS-OF-IRON, SERGEANT IN IrETON'S REGIMENT. (1824.) 

Oh ! wherefore come ye forth, in triumph from the 
North, 
With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment 
all red ? 
And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous 
shout ? 
And whence be the grapes of the wine-press which 
ye tread ? 

Oh evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit, 

And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we 
trod ; 
For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and 
the strong. 
Who sate in the high places, and slew the saints of 
God. 

It was about the noon of a glorious day of June, 
That we saw their banners dance, and their cuirasses 
shine. 
And the Man of Blood was there, with his long es- 
senced hair. 
And Astley, and Sir Marmaduke, and Rupert of 
the Rhine. 



156 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Like a servant of the Lord, with his Bible and his 
sword, 
The General rode along us to form us to the fight, 
When a murmuring sound broke out, and swell'd into 
a shout, 
Among the godless horsemen upon the tyrant's 
right. 



And hark ! like the roar of the billows on the shore, 

The cry of battle rises along their charging line ! 
For God ! for the Cause ! for the Church ! for the 
Laws ! 
For Charles King of England and Rupert of the 
Rhine ! 



The furious German comes, with his clarions and his 
drums, 
His bravoes of Alsatia, and pages of Whitehall ; 
They are bursting on our flanks. Grasp your pikes, 
close your ranks ; 
For Rupert never comes but to conquer or to fall. 



They are here ! They rush on ! We are broken ! We 
are gone ! 
Our left is borne before them like stubble on the 
blast. 
O Lord, put forth thy might ! O Lord, defend the 
right ! 
Stand back to back, in God's name, and fight it to 
the last. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1^7 

Stout Skippon hath a wound ; the centre hath given 
ground : 
Hafk ! hark ! — What means the trampHng of horse- 
men on our rear ? 
Whose banner do I see, boys? 'Tis he, thank God, 
'tis he, boys, 
Bear up another minute : brave OHver is here. 



Their heads all stooping low, their points all in a row, 

Like a whirlwind on the trees, like a deluge on the 

dykes. 

Our cuirassiers have burst on the ranks of the Accurst, 

And at a shock have scattered the forest of his 

pikes. 



Fast, fast, the gallants ride, in some safe nook to 
hide 
Their coward heads, predestined to rot on Temple 
Bar; 
And he — he turns, he flies : — shame on those cruel 
eyes 
That bore to look on torture, and dare not look on 
war. 



Ha ! comrades, scour the plain ; and, ere ye strip the 
slain, 
First give another stab to make your search secure. 
Then shake from sleeves and pockets their broad- 
pieces and lockets, 
The tokens' of the wanton, the plunder of the poor. 



158 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Fools ! your doublets shone with gold, and your 
hearts were gay and bold, 
When you kissed your lily hands to your lemans 
to-day ; 
And to-morrow shall the fox, from her chambers in 
the rocks, 
Lead forth her tawny cubs to howl above the prey. 

Where be your tongues that late mocked at heaven 
and hell and fate, 
And the fingers that once were so busy with your 
blades, 
Your perfum'd satin clothes, your catches and your 
oaths. 
Your stage-plays and your sonnets, your diamonds 
and your spades ? 

Down, down, forever down with the mitre and the 
crown , 
With the Belial of the Court and the Mammon of 
the Pope ; 
There is woe in Oxford halls : there is wail in Dur- 
ham's Stalls : 
The Jesuit smites his bosom : the Bishop rends his 
cope. 
And She of the seven hills shall mourn her children's 
ills, 
And tremble when she thinks on the edge of Ei^g- 
land's sword ; 
And the Kings of earth in fear shall shudder when 
they hear 
What the hand of God hath wrought for the Houses 
and the Word. 



MISCELLANEOUS FOEMS. 159 



SERMON IN A CHURCHYARD. 

(1825.) 
Let pious Damon take his seat, 

With mincing step and languid smile, 
And scatter from his 'kerchief sweet, 

Sabaean odors o'er the aisle ; 
And spread his little jewelled hand, 

And smile round all the parish beauties. 
And pat his curls, and smooth his band, 

Meet prelude to his saintly duties. 

Let the thronged audience press and stare. 

Let stifled maidens ply the fan, 
Admire his doctrines, and his hair. 

And- whisper, '* What a good young man ! " 
While he explains what seems most clear. 

So clearly that it seems perplexed, 
I'll stay and read my sermon here ; 

And skulls, and bones, shall be the text. 

Art thou the jilted dupe of fame ? 

Dost thou with jealous anger pine 
Whene'er she sounds some other name, 

With fonder emphasis than thine ? 
To thee I preach ; draw near ; attend ! 

Look on these bones, thou fool, and see 
Where all her scorns and favors end, 

What Byron is, and thou must be. 



l6o MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Dost thou revere, or praise, or trust 

Some clod like those that here we spurn ; 
Some thing that sprang like thee from dust, 

And shall like thee to dust return ? 
Dost thou rate statesmen, heroes, wits, 

At one sear leaf, or wandering feather ? 
Behold the black, damp, narrow pits, 

Where they and thou must lie together. 



Dost thou beneath the smile or frown 

Of some v^ain woman bend thy knee ? 
Here take thy stand, and trample down 

Things that were once as fair as she. 
Here rave of her ten thousand graces, 

Bosom, and lip, and eye, and chin, 
While, as in scorn, the fleshless faces 

Of Hamiltons and Waldegraves grin. 



Whate'er thy losses or thy gains, 

Whate'er thy projects or thy fears, 
Whate'er the joys, whate'er the pains. 

That prompt thy baby smiles and tears ; 
Come to my school, and thou shalt learn, 

In one short hour of placid thought. 
A stoicism, more deep, more st:. 

'inan ever Zeno's porch hath taught. 

The plots and feats of those that press 
To seize on titles, wealth, or power, 

Shall seem to thee 'a game of chess, 
Devised to pass a tedious hour. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. l6l 

What matters it to him who fights 

For shows of unsubstantial good, 
Whether his Kings, and Queens, and Knights, 

Be things of flesh, or things of wood ? 



We check, and take ; exult, and fret ; 

Our plans extend, our passions rise, 
Till in our ardor we forget 

How worthless is the victor's prize. 
Soon fades the spell, soon comes the night : 

Say will it not be then the same. 
Whether we played the black or white. 

Whether we lost or won the game ? 



Dost thou among these hillocks stray, 

O'er some dear idol's tomb to moan ? 
Know that thy foot is on the clay 

Of hearts once wretched as thy own. 
How many a father's anxious schemes. 

How many rapturous thoughts of lovers. 
How many a mother's cherished dreams. 

The swelling turf before thee covers 1 



Here for the living, and the dead, 

The weepers and the friends they weep, 
Hath been ordained the same cold bed, 

The same dark night, the same long sleep ; 
Why shouldest thou writhe, and sob, and rave 

O'er those with whom thou soon must be ? 
Death his own sting shall c;ure — the grave 

Shall vanquish its own victory. 



1 62 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Here learn that all the griefs and joys, 

Which now torment, which now beguile, 
Are children's hurts, and children's toys, 

Scarce worthy of one bitter smile. 
Here learn that pulpit, throne, and press, 

Sword, sceptre, lyre, alike are frail, 
That science is a blind man's guess, 

And History a nurse's tale. 



Here learn that glory and disgrace. 

Wisdom and folly, pass away, 
That mirth hath its appointed space. 

That sorrow is but for a day ; 
That all we love, and all we hate. 

That all we hope, and all we fear, 
Each mood of mind, each turn of fate, 

Must end in dust and silence here. 



TRANSLATION FROM A. V. ARNAULT. 
Fables : Livre v. Fable i6. 
(1826.) 
Thou poor leaf, so sear and frail, 
Sport of every wanton gale. 
Whence, and whither, dost thou fly. 
Through this bleak autumnarsky ? 
On a noble oak I grew, 
Green, and broad, and fair to view ; 
But the Monapch of the shade 
By the tempest low was laid. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 163 

From that time, I wander o'er 
Wood, and valley, hill, and moor, 
Whereso'er the wind is blowing, 
Nothing caring, nothing knowing : 
Thither go I, whither goes, 
Glory's laurel, Beauty's rose. 



-De ta tige detach^e, 



Pauvre feuille dessechee 
Oil vas-tu ? — Je n'en sais rien. 
L'orage a frappe le chene 
Qui seul etait mon soutien. 
De son inconstante haleine, 
Le zephyr ou I'aquilon 
Depuis ce jour me promene 
De la foret a la plaine, 
De la montagne auvallon. 
Je vais ou le vent me mene 
Sans me plaindre ou m'effrayer, 
Je vais ou va toute chose 
Oil va la feuille de rose 
Et la feuille de laurier. 



DIES IR^. 

(1826.) 

On that great, that awful day. 
This vain world shall .pass away. 
Thus the sibyl sang of old. 
Thus hath holy David told. 



l64 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 

There shall be a deadly fear 
When the Avenger shall appear. 
And unveiled before his eye 
All the works of man shall lie. 
Hark ! to the great trumpet's tones 
Pealing o'er the place of bones : 
Hark ! it waketh from their bed 
All the nations of the dead, — 
In a countless throng to meet. 
At the eternal judgment seat. 
Nature sickens with dismay, 
Death may not retain its prey ; 
And before the Maker stand 
All the creatures of his hand. 
The great book shall be unfurled, 
Whereby God shall judge the world : 
What was distant shall be near, 
What was hidden shall be clear. 
To what shelter shall I fly ? 
To what guardian shall I cry ? 
Oh, in that destroying hour, 
Source of goodness, Source of power, 
Show thou, of thine own free grace, 
Help unto a helpless race. 
Though I plead not at thy throne 
Aught that I for thee have done. 
Do not thou unmindful be, 
Of what thou hast borne for me : 
Of the wandering, of the scorn. 
Of the scourge, and of the thorn. 
Jesus, hast tJiou borne the pain, 
And hath all been borne in vain ? 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 165 

Shall thy vengeance smite the head 
For whose ransom thou hast bled ? 
Thou, whose dying blessing gave 
Glory to a guilty slave : 
Thou, who from the crew unclean 
Didst release the Magdalene : 
Shall not mercy vast and free, 
Evermore be found in thee ? 
Father^ turn on me thine eyes, 
See my blushes, hear my cries ; 
Faint though be the cries I make, 
Save me for thy mercy's sake, 
From the worm, and from the fire, 
From the torments of thine ire. 
Fold me with the sheep that stand 
Pure and safe at thy right hand. 
Hear thy guilty child implore thee, 
Rolling in the dust before thee. 
Oh the horrors of that day ! 
When this frame of sinful clay. 
Starting from its burial place. 
Must behold thee face to face. 
Hear and pity, hear and aid, 
Spare the creatures thou hast made. 
Mercy, mercy, save, forgive , 
Oh, who shall look on thee and live ? 



l66 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



THE MARRIAGE OF TIRZAH AND AHIRAD. 

(1837.) 
Genesis vi. 3. 

It is the dead of night : 

Yet more than noonday light 
Beams far and wide from many a gorgeous hall. 

Unnumbered harps are tinkling, 

Unnumbered lamps are twinkling, 
In the great city of the fourfold wall. 

By the brazen castle's moat, 

The sentry hums a livelier note. 

The ship-boy chaunts a shriller lay 

From the galleys in the bay. 

Shout, and laugh, and hurrying feet 

Sound from mart and square and street, 

From the breezy laurel shades, 

From the granite colonnades, 

From the golden statue's base, 

From the stately market-place, 

Where, upreared by captive hands, 

The great Tower of Triumph stands, 

All its pillars in a blaze 

With the many-colored rays. 

Which lanthorns often thousand dyes 

Shed on ten thousand panoplies. 

Bui closest is the throng, 

And loudest is the song, 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 167 

In that sweet garden by the river side, 

The abyss of myrtle bowers, 

The wilderness of flowers, 
Where Cain hath built the palace of his pride. 

Such palace ne'er shall be again 

Among the dwindling race of men. 
From all its threescore gates the light 

Of gold and steel afar was thrown ; 
Two hundred cubits rose in height 

The outer wall of polished stone. 

On the top was ample space 

For a gallant chariot race, 

Near either parapet a bed 

Of the richest mould was spread. 
Where amidst flowers of every scent and hue 
Rich orange trees, and palms, and giant cedars grew. 

In the mansion's public court 

All is revel, song, and sport ; 
For there, till morn shall tint the east, 
Menials and guards prolong the feast. 
The boards with painted vessels shine ; 
The marble cisterns foam with wine. 
A hundred dancing girls are there 
With zoneless waists and streaming hair ; 
And countless eyes with ardor gaze, 

And countless hands the measure beat, 
As mix and part in amorous maze 

Those floating arms and bounding feet. 
But none of all the race of Cain, 

Save those whom he hath deigned to grace 
With yellow robe and sapphire chain, 

May pass beyond that outer space. 



l68 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

For now within the painted hall 

The Firstborn keeps high festival. 
Before the glittering valves all night 

Their post the chosen captains hold. 
Above the portal's stately height 

The legend flames in lamps of gold : 
** In life united and in death 

" May Tirzah and Ahirad be, 
" The bravest he of all the sons of Seth, 

" Of all the house of Cain the loveliest she. 

Thorough all the climates of the earth 
This night is given to festal mirth. 
The long continued war is ended. 
The long divided lines are blended. 
Ahirad's bow shall now no more 
Make fat the wolves with kindred gore. 
The vultures shall expect in vain 
Their banquet from the sword of Cain. 
Without a guard the herds and flocks 
Along the frontier moors and rocks 

From eve to morn may roam ; 
Nor shriek, nor shout, nor reddened slcy, 
Shall warn the startled hind to fly 

From his beloved home. 
Nor to the pier shall burghers crowd 

With straining necks and faces pale, 
And think that in each flitting cloud 

They see a hostile sail. 
The peasant without fear shall guide 
Down smooth canal or river wide 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 69 

His painted bark of cane, 
Fraught, for some proud bazaar's arcades, 
With chestnuts from his native shades, 

And wine, and millv, and grain. 
Search round the peopled globe to-night, 

Explore each continent and isle, 
There is no door without a light, 

No face without a smile. 
The noblest chiefs of either race, 

From north and south, from west and east, 
Crowd to the painted hall to grace 

The pomp of that atoning feast. 

With widening eyes and laboring breath 

Stand the fair-haired sons of Seth, 

As bursts upon their dazzled sight 

The endless avenue of light, 

The bowers of tulip, rose, and palm, 

The thousand cressets fed with balm, 

The silken vests, the boards piled high 

With amber, gold, and ivory, 

The crystal founts whence sparkling flow 

The richest wines o'er beds of snow. 

The walls where blaze in living dyes 

The king's three hundred victories. 

The heralds point the fitting seat 

To every guest in order meet, 

And place the highest in degree 

Nearest th' imperial canopy. 

Beneath its broad and gorgeous fold, 

With naked swords and shields of gold, 
Stood the seven princes of the tribes of Nod. 



I70 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Upon an ermine carpet lay 
Two tiger cubs in furious play, 
Beneath the emerald throne where sat the signed of God 

Over that ample forehead white 

The thousandth year returneth. 
Still, on its commanding height, 
With a fierce and blood-red light. 

The fiery token burneth. 
Wheresoe'er that mystic star 
Blazeth in the van of war, 

Back recoil before its ray " 

Shield and banner, bow and spear. 

Maddened horses break away 
From the trembling charioteer. 
The fear of that stern king doth He 
On all that live beneath the sky ; 
All shrink before the mark of his despair. 
The seal of that great curse which he alone can bear. 
Blazing in pearls and diamonds' sheen. 

Tirzah, the young Ahirad's bride, 
Of humankind the destined queen, 

Sits by her great forefather's side. 
The jetty curls, the forehead high, 

The swanlike neck, the eagle face. 
The glowing cheek, the rich dark eye, 

Proclaim her of the elder race. 
With flowing locks of auburn hue. 
And features smooth, and eye of blue, 

Timid in love as brave in arms, 
The gentle heir of Seth askance 
Snatches a bashful, ardent glance • 

At her majestic charms ; 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 17 1 

Blest when across that brow high musing flashes 

A deeper tint of rose, 
Thrice blest when from beneath the silken lashes 

Of her proud eye she throws 
The smile of blended fondness and disdain 
Which marks the daughters of the house of Cain. 

All hearts are light around the hall 
Save his who is the lord of all. 
The painted roofs, the attendant train, 
The lights, the banquet, all are vain. 
He sees them not. His fancy strays 
To other scenes and other days. 
A cot by a lone forest's edge, 

A fountain murmuring through the trees, 
A garden with a wildflower hedge, 

Whence sounds the music of the bees, 
A little flock of sheep at rest 
Upon a mountain's swarthy breast. 
On his rude spade he seems to lean 

Beside the well remembered stone, 
Rejoicing o'er the promised green 

Of the first harvest man hath sown. 
He sees his mother's tears ; 
His father's voice he hears, 
Kind as when first it praised his youthful skill. 
And soon a seraph-child, 
In boyish rapture wild, 
With a light crook comes bounding from the hill. 
Kisses his hands, and strokes his face, 
And nestles close in his embrace. 
In his adamantine eye 
None might discern his agony ; 



1/2 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

But they who had grown hoary next his side, 
And read his stern dark face with deepest skill, 

Could trace strange meanings in that lip of pride, 
Which for one moment quivered and was still. 

No time for them to mark or him to feel 

Those inward stings ; for clarion, flute, and lyre^ 
And the rich voices of a countless quire, 

Burst on the ear in one triumphant peal. 

In breathless transport sits the admiring throng. 

As sink and swell the notes of Jubal's lofty song. 

" Sound the timbrel, strike the lyre, 
Wake the trumpet's blast of fire. 

Till the gilded arches ring. 
Empire, victory, and fame. 
Be ascribed unto the name 

Of our father and our king. 
Of the deeds which he hath done, 
Of the spoils which he hath won, 

Let his grateful children sing. 
When the deadly fight was fought. 
When the great revenge was wrought. 
When on the slaughtered victims lay 
The minion stiff and cold as they, 
Doomed to exile, sealed with flame. 
From the west the wanderer came. 
Six score years and six he strayed 
A hunter through the forest shade. 
The lion's shaggy jaws he tore, 
To earth he smote the foaming boar, 
He crushed the dragon's fiery crest. 
And scaled the condor's dizzy nest ; 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1/3 

Till hardy sons and daughters fair 
Increased around his woodland lair. 
Then his victorious bow unstrung 
On the great bison's horn he hung. 
Giraffe and elk he left to hold 

The wilderness of boughs in peace, 
And trained his youth to pen the fold, 

To press the cream, and weave the fleece. 
As shrunk the streamlet in its bed, 

As black and scant the herbage grew. 
O'er endless plains his flocks he led 

Still to new brooks and pastures new. 
So strayed he till the white pavilions 
Of his camp were told by millions, 
Till his children's households seven 
Were numerous as the stars of heaven. 
Then he bade us rove no more ; 

And in the place that pleased him best, 
On the great river's fertile shore, 

He fixed the city of his rest. 
He taught us then to bind the sheaves, 

To strain the palm's delicious milk, 
And from the dark green mulberry leaves 

To culbthe filmy silk. 
Then first from straw-built mansions roamed 

O'er flower-beds trim the skilful bees ; 
Then first the purple wine vats foamed 

Around the laughing peasant's knees ; 
And olive-yards, and orchards green, 
O'er all the hills of Nod were seen. 

" Of our father and our king 

Let his grateful children sing. ^ 



174 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

From him our race its being draws, 

His are our arts, and his our laws. 

Like himself he bade us be, 

Proud, and brave, and fierce, and free. 

True, through every turn of fate, 

In our friendship and our hate. 

Calm to watch, yet prompt to dare ; 

Quick to feel, yet firm to bear ; 

Only timid, only weak. 

Before sweet woman's eye and cheek. 

We will not serve, we will not know, 

The God who is our father's foe. 

In our proud cities to his name 

No temples rise, no altars flame. 

Our flocks of sheep, our groves of spice. 

To him afford no sacrifice. 

Enough that once the House of Cain 

Hath courted with oblation vain 

The sullen power above. 
Henceforth we bear the yoke no more ; 
The only gods whom we adore 

Are glory, vengeance, love. 

" Of our father and our king 
Let his grateful children sing. 
What eye of living thing may brook 
On his blazing brow to look ? 
What might of living thing may stand 
Against the strength of his right hand ? 
First he led his armies forth 
Against the Mammoths of the north. 
What time they wasted in their pride 
Pastyre and vineyard far and wide. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 75 

Then the White River's icy flood 

Was thawed with fire and dyed with blood, 

And heard for many a league the sound 

Of the pine forests blazing round, 

And the death-howl and trampling din 

Of the gigantic herd within. 

From the surging sea of flame 

Forth the tortured monsters came ; 

As of breakers on the shore 

Was their onset and their roar ; 

As the cedar-trees of God 

Stood the stately ranks of Nod. 

One long night and one short day 

The sword was lifted up to slay. 

Then marched the firstborn and his sons 
O'er the white ashes of the wood, 
And counted of that savage brood 

Nine times nine thousand skeletons. 

"On the snow with carnage red 
The wood is piled, the skins are spread. 
A thousand fires illume the sky ; 
Round each a hundred warriors lie. 
But, long ere half the night was spent, 
Forth thundered from the golden tent 

The rousing voice of Cain. 
A thousand trumps in answer rang 
And fast to arms the warriors sprang 

O'er all the frozen plain. 
A herald from the wealthy bay 
Hath come with tidings of dismay. 
From the western ocean's coast 
Seth hath led a countless host, 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

And vows to slay with fire and sword 
All who call not on the Lord. 
His archers hold the mountain forts ; 
His light armed ships blockade the ports ; 

His horsemen tread the harvest down. 
On twelve proud bridges he hath passed 
The river dark Avith many a mast, 
And pitched his mighty camp at last 

Before the imperial town. 

" On the south and on the west, 

Closely was the city prest. 

Before us lay the hostile powers. 

The breach was wide between the towers. 

Pulse and meal within were sold 

For a double weight of gold. 

Our mighty father had gone forth 

Two hundred marches to the north. 

Yet in that extreme of ill 

We stoutly kept his city still ; 

And swore beneath his royal wall, 

Like his true sons to fight and fall, 

" Hark, hark, to gong and horn, 
Clarion, and fife, and drum, 
The morn, the fortieth morn, 
Fixed for the great assault is come. 
Between the camp and city spreads 
A waving sea of helmed heads. 
From the royal car of Seth 
Was hung the blood-red flag of death : 
At sight of that thrice-hallowed sign 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 177 

Wide flew at once each banner's fold ; 
The captains clashed their arms of gold ; 
The war cry of Elohim rolled 
Far down their endless line. 
On the northern hills afar 
Pealed an answering note of war. 
Soon the dust in whirlwinds driven, 
Rushed across the northern heaven. 
Beneath its shroud came thick and loud 
The tramp as of a countless crowd ; 
And at intervals were seen 
Lance and hauberk glancing sheen ; 
And at intervals were heard 
Charger's neigh and battle word. 

" Oh what a rapturous cry 
From all the city's thousand spires arose, 

With what a look the hollow eye 
Of the lean watchman glared upon the foes, 
With what a yell of joy the mother pressed 
The moaning babe to her withered. breast ; 
When through the swarthy cloud that veiled the plain 
Burst on his children's sight the flaming brow of 
Cain ! " 

There paused perforce that noble song 

For from all the joyous throng, 

Burst forth a rapturous shout which drowned 

Singer's voice and trumpet's sound. 

Thrice that stormy clamor fell. 

Thrice rose again with mightier swell. 

The last and loudest roar of all 

Had died along the painted wall. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

The crowd was hushed ; the minstrel train 
Prepared to strike the chords again ; 
When on each ear distinctly smote 
A low and wild and wailing note. 
It moans again. In mute amaze 
Menials, and guests, and harpers gaze. 
They look above, beneath, around, 
No shape doth own that mournful sound. 
It comes not from the tuneful quire ; 

It comes not from the feasting peers. 
There is no tone of earthly lyre 

So soft, so sad, so full of tears. 
Then a strange horror came on all 
Who sate at that high festival. 
The far famed harp, the harp of gold, 
Dropped from Jubal's trembling hold. 
Frantic with dismay the bride 
Clung to her Ahirad's side. 
And the corpse-like hue of dread 
Ahirad's haughty face o'erspread. 
Yet not even in that agony of awe 

Did the young leader of the fair-haired race 
From Tirzah's shuddering grasp his hanci with- 
draw, 

Or turn his eyes from Tirzah's livid face. 
The tigers to their lord retreat, 
And crouch and whine beneath his feet. 

Prone sink to earth the golden shielded seven. 
All hearts are cowed save his alone 
Who sits upon the emerald throne ; 

For he hath heard Elohim speak from heaven. 
Still thunders in his ear the peal ; 
Still blazes on his front the seal ; 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1/9 

And on the soul of the proud king 

No terror of created thing 

From sky, or earth, or hell, hath power 

Since that unutterable hour. 

He rose to speak, but paused, and listening stood, 

Not daunted, but in sad and curious mood, 

With knitted brow, and searching eye of fire. 
A deathlike silence sank on all around. 
And through the boundless space was heard no 
sound. 

Save the soft tones of that mysterious lyre. 
Broken, faint, and low. 
At first the numbers flow. 
Louder, deeper, quicker, still 

Into one fierce peal they swell, 
And the echoing palace fill 

With a strange funereal yell. 
A voice comes forth. But what, or where ? 
On the earth, or in the air ? 
Like the midnight winds that blow 
Round a lone cottage in the snow, 
With howHng swell and sighing fall. 
It wails along the trophied hall. 
In such a wild and dreary moan 

The watches of the Seraphim 

Poured out all night their plaintive hymn 
Before the eternal throne. 
Then, when from many a heavenly eye 

Drops as of earthly pity fell 
For her who had aspired too high. 

For him who loved too well. 
When, stunned by grief, the gentle pair 
From the nuptial garden fair, 



l8o MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, ' 

Linked in a sorrowful caress, 

Strayed through the untrodden wilderness ; 

And close behind their footsteps came 

The desolating sword of flame, 

And drooped the cedared alley's pride. 

And fountains shrank, and roses died. 

'* Rejoice, O Son of God, rejoice," 

Sang that melancholy voice, 

" Rejoice, the maid is fair to see ; 

The bower is decked for her and thee ; 

The ivory lamps around it throw 

A soft and pure and mellow glow. 

Where'er the chastened lustre falls 

On roof or cornice, floor or walls, 

Woven of pink and rose appear 

Such words as love delights to hear. 

The breath of myrrh, the lute's soft sound, 

Float through the moonlight galleries round. 

O'er beds of violet and through groves of spice, 

Lead thy proud bride into the nuptial bower ; 
For thou hast bought her with a fearful price. 

And she hath dowered thee with a fearful dower. 
The price is hfe. The dower is death. 

Accursed loss ! Accursed gain ! 
For her thou givest the blessedness of Seth, 
And to thine arms she brings the curse of Cain. 
Round the dark curtains of the fiery throne 

Pauses awhile the voice of sacred song : 
From all the angelic ranks goes forth a groan, 

' How long, O Lord, how long ? ' 
The still small voice makes answer, ' Wait and see. 
Oh sons of glory, what the end shall be.' 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. l8l 

" But, in the outer darkness of the place 

Where God hath shown his power without his grace, 

Is laughter and the sound of glad acclaim, 

Loud as when, on wings of fire, 

Fulfilled of his malign desire, 
From Paradise the conquering serpent came. 
The giant ruler of the morning star 

From off his fiery bed 

Lifts high his stately head, 
Which Michael's sword hath marked with many a scar. 
At his voice the pit of hell 
Answers with a joyous yell, 
And flings her dusky portals wide 
For the bridegroom and the bride. 

" But louder still shall be the din 
In the halls of Death and Sin, 
When the full measure runneth o'er, 
When mercy can endure no more, 
When he who vainly proffers grace, 
Comes in his fury to deface 

The fair creation of his hand ; 
When from the heaven streams down amain 
For forty days the sheeted rain ; 
And from his ancient barriers free, 
With a deafening roar the sea 

Comes foaming up^the land. 
Mother, cast thy babe aside : 
Bridegroom, quit thy virgin bride : 
Brother, pass thy brother by : 
'Tis for life, for life, ye fly. 
Along the drear horizon raves 
The swift advanciner line of waves. 



182 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

On : on : their frothy crest appear 

Each moment nearer, and more near. 

Urge the dromedary's speed ; 

Spur to death the reehng steed ; 

If perchance ye yet may gain 

The mountains that o'erhang the plain. 

" Oh thou haughty land of Nod, 
Hear the sentence of thy God. 
Thou hast said ' Of all the hills ' 
Whence, after autumn rains, the rills 

In silver trickle down, 
The fairest is that mountain white 
Which intercepts the morning light 

From Cain's imperial town. 
On its first and gentlest swell 
Are pleasant halls where nobles dwell ; 
And marble porticoes are seen 
Peeping through terraced gardens green. 
Above are olives, palms, and vines ; 
And higher yet the dark-blue pines ; 
And highest on the summit shines 

The crest of everlasting ice. 
Here let the God of Abel own 
That human art hath Avonders shown 

Beyond his boasted paradise.' 

" Therefore on that proud mountain's crown 
Thy few surviving sons and daughters 

Shall see their latest sun go down 
Upon a boundless waste of waters. 

None salutes and none replies ; 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. I»3 

None heaves a groan or breathes a prayer 
They crouch on earth with tearless eyes, 

And clenched hands, and bristling hair. 
The rain pours on : no star illumes 

The blackness of the roaring sky. 
And each successive billow booms 

Nigher still and still more nigh. 
And now upon the howling blast 
The wreaths of spray come thick and fast ; 
And a great billow by the tempest curled 

Falls with a thundering crash ; and all is o'er. 
And what is left of all this glorious world ? 

A sky without a beam, a sea without a shore. 



" Oh thou fair land, where from their starry home 
Cherub and seraph oft delight to roam, 
Thou city of the thousand towers, 

Thou palace of the golden stairs, 
Ye gardens cf perennial flowers. 

Ye moted gates, ye breezy squares ; 
Ye parks amidst whose branches high 
Oft peers the squirrel's sparkling eye ; 
Ye vineyards, in whose trellised shade 
Pipes many a youth to many a maid ; 
Ye ports where rides the gallant ship. 

Ye marts where wealthy burghers meet ; 
Ye dark green lanes which know the trip 

Of woman's conscious feet ; 
Ye grassy meads where, when the day is done, 

The shepherd pens his fold ; 
Ye purple moors on which the setting sun 

Leaves a rich fringe of gold ; 



1 84 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Ye wintry deserts where the larches grow ; 
Ye mountains on whose everlasting snow 

No human foot hath trod ; 
Many a fathom shall ye sleep 
Beneath the grey and endless deep, 

In the great day of the revenge of God." 



THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN'S TRIP TO 
CAMBRIDGE. 
An Election Ballad. (1S27.) 
As I sate down to breakfast in state, 

At my living of Tithing-cum-Boring, 
With Betty beside me to wait, 

Came a rap that almost beat the door in. 
I laid down my basin of tea, 

And Betty ceased spreading the toast, 
" As sure as a gun, sir," said she, 

" That must be the knock of the post." 

A letter — and free — bring it here — 

I have no correspondent who franks. 
No ! Yes ! Can it be ? Why, my dear, 

'Tis our glorious, our Protestant Bankes. 
" Dear sir, as I know you desire 

That the Church should receive due protection 
I humbly presume to require 

Your aid at the Cambridge election, 

" It has lately been brought to my knowledgJi- 

That the Ministers fully design 
To suppress each cathedral and colleg* 

And eject every learned divine. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, ■ 1^5 

Tt. jsist this detestable scheme r 

lliree nuncios from Rome are come over ^ 

Th<5y left Calais on Monday by steam, 
And landed to dinner at Dover. 



" An army of grim Cordeliers, 

Well furnished with relics and vermin, 
Will follow, Lord Westmoreland fears, 

To effect what their chiefs may determine. 
Lollard's bower, good authorities say. 

Is again fitting up for a prison ; 
And a wood-merchant told me to-day 

'Tis a wonder how faggots have risen. 

" Tjig finance scheme of Canning contains 

/■; new Easter-offering tax ; 
An'-J he means to devote all the gains 

Tf»a bounty on thumb-screws and racks. 
Your living, so neat and compact — 

Pray, don't let the news give you pain ! — 
Is promised, I know for a fact. 

To an olive-faced Padre from Spain." 

I read, and I felt my heart bleed. 

Sore wounded with horror and pity ; 
So I flew, with all possible speed. 

To our Protestant champion's committee 
Tru® gentlemen, kind and well-bred ! 

Jv?> fleering ! no distance ! no scorn ! 
Th'"'7 asked after my wife who is dead, 

>^»fl my children who never were born. 



1 8b MISCELLANEOUS FUEMS. 

They then, like high-principled Tories, 

Called our Sovereign unjust and unsteady, 
And assailed him with scandalous stories, 

Till the coach for the voters was ready. 
That coach might be well called a casket 

Of learning and brotherly love : 
There were parsons in boot and in basket ; 

There were parsons below and above. 



There were Sneaker and Griper, a pair 

Who stick to Lord Mulesby like leeches ; 
A smug chaplain of plausible air, 

Who writes my Lord Goslingham's speeches. 
Dr. Buzz, who alone is a host, 

Who, with arguments weighty as lead. 
Proves six times a week in the Post 

That flesh somehow differs from bread. 



Dr. Nimrod, whose orthodox toes 

Are seldom withdrawn from the stirrup ; 
Dr. Humdrum, whose eloquence flows, 

Like droppings of sweet poppy syrup ; 
Dr. Rosygill puffing and fanning. 

And wiping away perspiration ; 
Dr. Humbug who proved Mr. Canning 

The beast in St. John's Revelation. 

A layman can scarce form a notion 
Of our wonderful talk on the road ; 

Of the learning, the wit, and devotion, 
Which almost each syllable showed : 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 87 

Why divided allegiance agrees 

So ill with our free constitution ; 
How Catholics swear as they please, 

In hope of the priest's absolution ; 

How the Bishop of Norwich had bartered 

His faith for a legate's commission ; 
How Lyndhurst, afraid to be martyr'd, 

Had stooped to a base coalition ; 
How Papists are cased from compassion 

By bigotry, stronger than steel ; 
How burning would soon come in fashion, 

And how very bad it must feel. 

We were all so much touched and excited 

By a subject so direly sublime, 
That the rules of politeness were slighted, 

And we all of us talked at a time ; 
And in tones, which each moment grew louder, 

Told how we should dress for the show, 
And where we should fasten the powder, 

And if we should bellow or no. 

hus from subject to subject we ran, 

And the journey passed pleasantly o'er, 
Till at last Dr. Humdrum began ; 

From that time I remember no more. 
At Ware he commenced his prelection 

In the dullest of clerical drones ; 
And when next I regained recollection 

We were rumbling o'er Trumpington stones. 



1 88 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



SONG. 

(1827.) 

O STAY, Madonna ! stay ; 

'Tis not the dawn of day 
That marks the skies with yonder opal streak : 

The stars in silence shine ; 

Then press thy lips to mine, 
And rest upon my neck thy fervid cheek. 

O sleep, Madonna ! sleep ; 

Leave me to watch and weep 
O'er the sad memory of departed joys, 

O'er hope's extinguished beam, 

O'er fancy's vanished dream ; 
O'er all that nature gives and man destroys. 

O wake, Madonna ! wake ; 

Even now the purple lake 
Is dappled o'er with amber flakes of light ; 

A glow is on the hill ; 

And every trickling rill 
In golden threads leaps down from yonder height. 

O fly, Madonna ! fly, 

Lest day and envy spy 
What only love and night may safely know : 

Fly, and tread softly, dear ! 

Lest those who hate us hear 
The sounds of thy light footsteps as they go. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 1 89 



POLITICAL GEORGICS. 
(March, 1828.) 

" Quid facial Isetas segetcs," &c. 

How cabinets are form'd, and how destroy'd, 

How Tories are confirm'd, and Whigs decoy'd, 

How in nice times a prudent man should vote, 

At what conjuncture he should turn his coat, 

The truths fallacious, and the candid lies, 

And all the lore of sleek majorities, 

I sing, great Premier. Oh, mysterious two, 

Lords of our fate, the Doctor and the Jew, 

If, by your care enriched, the aspiring clerk 

Quits the close alley for the breezy park, 

And Dolly's chops and Reid's entire resigns 

For odorous fricassees and costly wines ; 

And you, great pair, through Windsor's shades who 

rove, 
The Faun and Dryad of the conscious grove ; 
All, all inspire me, for of all I sing, 

Doctor and Jew, and M s and K g. 

Thou, to the maudlin muse of Rydal dear; 
Thou more than Neptune, Lowther, lend thine ear. 
At Neptune's voice the horse, with flowing mane 
And pawing hoof, sprung from th' obedient plain ; 
But at thy word the yawning earth, in fright, 
Engulfd the victor steed from mortal sight. 
Haste from thy woods, mine Arbuthnot, with speed, 
Rich woods, where lean Scotch cattle love to feed : 



igO MISC^ELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Let Gaffer Gooch and Boodle's patriot band, 

Fat from the leanness of a plundered land, 

True Cincinnati, quit their patent ploughs, 

Their new steam-harrows, and their premium sows ; 

Let all in bulky majesty appear, 

Roll the dull eye, and yawn th' unmeaning cheer. 

Ye veteran Swiss, of senatorial wars, 

Who glory in your well-earned sticks and stars ; 

Ye diners-out from whom we guard our spoons ; 

Ye smug defaulters ; ye obscene buffoons ; 

Come all, of every race and size and form. 

Corruption's children, brethren of the worm ; 

From those gigantic monsters who devour 

The pay of half a squadron in an hour. 

To those foul reptiles, doomed to night and scorn, 

Of filth and stench equivocally born ; 

From royal tigers down to toads and lice ; 

From Bathursts, Clintons, Fanes, to H and 

P ; 

Thou last, by habit and by nature blest 
With every gift which serves a courtier best, 
The lap-dog spittle, the hyaena bile. 
The maw of shark, the tear of crocodile, 
Whate'er high station, undetermined yet. 
Awaits thee in the longing Cabinet, — 
Whether thou seat thee in the room of Peel, 
Or from Lord Prig extort the Privy Seal, 
Or our Field-marshal-Treasurer fix'on thee, 
A legal admiral, to rule the sea. 
Or Chancery-suits, beneath thy well known reign. 
Turn to their nap of fifty years again ; 

(Already L , prescient of his fate, 

Yields half his woolsack to thy mightier weight ;) 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 19 1 

Oh ! Eldon, in whatever sphere thou shine, 

For opposition sure will ne'er be thine, 

Though scowls apart the lonely pride of Grey, 

Though Devonshire proudly flings his staff away, 

Though Lansdowne, trampling on his broken chain, 

Shine forth the Lansdowne of our hearts again, 

Assist me thou ; for well I deem, I see 

An abstract of my ample theme in thee. 

Thou, as thy glorious self hath justly said. 

From earliest youth, was pettifogger bred, 

And, raised to power by fortune's fickle will, 

Art head and heart a pettifogger still. 

So, where once Fleet-ditch ran confessed, we view 

A crowded mart and stately avenue ; 

But the black stream beneath runs on the same. 

Still brawls in W 's key, — still stinks like H 's 

name. 



THE DELIVERANCE OF VIENNA 

Translated from Vincenzio da Filicaia. 

{Published in the " IVinter^s Wreath,'" Liverpool, 1S2S.) 

" Le corde d'oro elettc," &c. 

The chords, the sacred chords of gold. 
Strike, O Muse, in measure bold ; 
And frame a sparkling wreath of joyous songs 
For that great God to whom revenge belongs. 

Who shall resist his might. 

Who marshals for the fight 
Earthquake and thunder, hurricane and flame ? 

He smote the haughty race 

Of unbelieving Thrace, 
And turned their rage to fear, their pride to shame. 



>92 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

He looked in wrath from high, 

Upon their vast array ; 
And, in the twinkHng of an eye, 
Tambour, and trump, and battle-cry, 
And steeds, and turbaned infantry, 
Passed like a dream away. 
Such power defends the mansions of the just : 
But, like a city without walls, 
The grandeur of the mortal falls 
Who glories in his strength, and makes not God his 

trust. 
The proud blasphemers thought all earth their own ; 
They deemed that soon the whirlwind of their ire 
Would sweep down tower and palace, dome and 
spire, 
The Christian altars and the Augustan thr.owe. 
And soon, they cried, shall Austria bow 
To the dust her lofty brow. 
The princedoms of Almayne 
Shall wear the Phrygian chain ; 
In humbler waves shall vassal Tiber roll ; 
And Rome a slave forlorn, 
Her laurelled tresses shorn, 
Shall feel our iron in her inmost soul. 
Who shall bid the torrent stay ? 
Who shall bar the lightning's way ? 
Who arrest the advancing van 
Of the fiery Ottoman ? 

As the curling smoke-wreaths fly 
When fresh breezes clear the sky, 
Passed away each swelling boast 
Of the misbelieving host. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 193 

From the Hebrus rolling far 
Came the murky cloud of war, 
And in shower and tempest dread 
Burst on x\ustria's fenceless head. 

But not for vaunt or threat 

Didst Thou, O Lord, forget 
The flock so dearly bought, and loved so well. 

Even in the very hour 

Of guilty pride and power 
Full on the circumcised Thy vengeance fell. 
Then the fields were heaped with dead, 
Then the streams with gore were red. 
And every bird of prey, and every beast. 
From wood and cavdrn thronged to Thy great feast. 

What terror seized the fiends obscene of Nile ! 
How wildly, in his place of doom beneath, 
Arabia's lying prophet gnashed his teeth, 
And cursed his blighted hopes and wasted guile ! 
When, at the bidding of Thy sovereign might, 

Flew on their destined path 

Thy messengers of wrath, 
Riding on storms and wrapped in deepest night. 

The Phthian mountains saw. 

And quaked with mystic awe : 
The proud Sultana of the Straits bowed down 
Her jewelled neck and her embattled crown. 
The miscreants, as they raised their eyes 
Glaring defiance on Thy skies, 
Saw adverse winds and clouds display 
The terrors of their black array ; — 



194 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 

Saw each portentous star 
Whose fiery aspect turned of yore to flight 
The iron chariots of tlie Canaanite 

Gird its bright harness for a deadher war. 

Beneath Thy withering look 
Their limbs with palsy shook ; 
Scattered on earth the crescent banners lay • 
Trembled with panic fear 
Sabre and targe and spear, 
Through the proud armies of the rising day. 
Faint was each heart, unnerved each hand ; 
And, if they strove to charge or stand. 

Their efforts were as vain 
As his who, scared in feverish sleep 
By evil dreams, essays to leap, 

Then backward falls again. 
With a crash of wild dismay, 
Their ten thousand ranks gave way ; 
Fast they broke, and fast they fled ; 
Trampled, mangled, dying, dead. 
Horse and horsemen mingled lay ; 
Till the mountains of the slain 
Raised the valleys to the plain. 
Be all the glory to Thy name divine ! 
The swords were our's ; the arm, O Lord, was Thine. 
Therefore to Thee, beneath whose footstool wait 
The powers which erring man calls Chance and Fate, 
To Thee who hast laid low 
The pride of Europe's foe. 
And taught Byzantium's sullen lords to fear, 
I pour my spirit out 
In a triumphant shout, 
And call all ages and all lands to hear. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 195 

Thou who evermore endurest, 
Loftiest, mightiest, wisest, purest, 
Thou whose will destroys or saves, 
Dread of tyrants, hope of slaves, 
The wreath of glory is from Thee, 
And the red sword of victory. 



There where exulting Danube's flood 
Runs stained with Islam's noblest blood 

From that tremendous field. 
There where in mosque the tyrants met. 
And from the crier's minaret 

Unholy summons pealed, 
Pure shrines and temples now shall be 
Decked for a worship worthy Thee. 
To Thee thy whole creation pays 
With mystic sympathy its praise, 

The air, the earth, the seas : 
The day shines forth with livelier beam ; 
There is a smile upon the stream, 

An anthem on the breeze. 
Glory, they cry, to Him whose might 
Hath turned the barbarous foe to flight. 
Whose arm protects with power divine 
The city of his favored line. 

The caves, the woods, the rocks, repeat the sound ; 
The everlasting hills roll the long echoes round. 

But, if Thy rescued church may dare 
Still to besiege Thy throne with prayer, 
Sheathe not, we implore Thee, Lord, 
Sheathe not Thy victorious sword. 



196 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Still Panonia pines away, 

Vassal of a double sway : 

Still Thy servants groan in chains, 

Still the race which hates Thee reigns : 

Part the living from the dead : 

Join the members to the head : 

Snatch Thine own sheep from yon fell monster's hold ; 

Let one kind shepherd rule one undivided fold. 

He is the victor, only he 

Who reaps the fruits of victory. 

We conquered once in vain, 
When foamed the Ionian waves with gore, 
And heaped Lepanto's storniy shore 

With wrecks and Moslem slain. 
Yet wretched Cyprus never broke 
The Syrian tyrant's iron yoke. 

Shall the twice vanquished foe 

Again repeat his blow ? 
Shall Europe's sword be hung to rust in peace ? 

No — let the red-cross ranks 

Of the triumphant Franks 
Bear swift deliverance to the shrines of Greece 
And in her inmost heart let Asia feel 
The avenging plagues of Western fire and steel. 

Oh God ! for one short moment raise 
The veil which hides those glorious days. 
The flying foes I see Thee urge 
Even to the river's headlong verge. 

Close on their rear the loud uproar 
Of fierce pursuit from Ister's shore 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 197 

Comes pealing on the wind ; 
The Rab's wild waters are before, 

The Christian sword behind. 
Sons of perdition, speed your flight, 

No earthly spear is in the rest ; 
No earthly champion leads to fight 

The warriors of the West. 
The Lord of Hosts asserts His old renown, 
Scatters, and smites, and slays, and tramples down. 
Fast, fast beyond what mortal tongoie can say, 

Or mortal fancy dream. 
He rushes on his prey : 

Till, with the terrors of the wondrous theme 
Bewildered and appalled, I cease to sing. 
And close my dazzled eye, and rest my wearied wing. 



THE LAST BUCCANEER. 

(1839.) 
The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling. 

The sky was black and drear, 
When the crew with eyes of flame brought the ship 
without a name 
Alongside the last Buccaneer. 

"Whence flies your sloop full sail before so fierce a 
gale, 

When all others drive bare on the seas ? 
Say, come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador, 

Or the gulf of the rich Caribbees ? " 



198 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

" From a shore no search hath found, from a gulf no 
hne can sound, 
Without rudder or needle we steer ; 
Above, below, our bark, dies the sea-fowl and the 
shark, 
As we fly by the last Buccaneer. 

** To-night there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape 
de Verde, 
A loud crash, and a louder roar ; 
And to-morrow shall the deep, with a heavy moaning, 
sweep 
The corpses and wreck to the shore." 

The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride. 

In the breath of the citron shades ; 
And Severn's towering mast securely now flies fast. 

Through the sea of the balmy Trades. 

From St. Jago's wealthy port, from Havannah's royal 
fort, 
The seaman goes forth without fear ; 
For since that stormy night not a mortal hath had 
sight 
Of the flag of the last Buccaneer. 



EPITAPH ON A JACOBITE. 

(1845.) 
To my true king I offered free from stain 
Courage and faith ; vain faith, and courage vain. 
For him, I threw lands, honors, wealth, away. 
And one dear hope, that was more prized than they. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 199 

For him I languished in a foreign dime, 
Gray-haired with sorrow in my manhood's prime j 
Heard on Lavernia Scargill's whispering trees, 
And pined by Arno for my lovelier Tees ; 
Beheld each night my home in fevered sleep, 
Each morning started from the dream to weep ; 
Till God who saw me tried too sorely, gave 
The resting place I asked, an early grave. 
Oh thou, whom chance leads to this nameless stone, 
From that proud country which was once mine own. 
By those white cliffs I never more must see, 
By that dear language which I spake like thee. 
Forget all feuds, and shed one English tear 
O'er English dust. A broken heart lies here. 



LINES WRITTEN IN AUGUST. 

(1847.) 
The day of tumult, strife, defeat, was o'er ; 
Worn out with toil, and noise, and scorn, and 
spleen, 
I slumbered, and in slumber saw once more 
A room in an old mansion, long unseen. 

That room, methought, was curtained from the light; 

Yet through the curtains shone the moon's cold ray 
Full on a cradle, where, in linen white, 

Sleeping hfe's first soft sleep, an infant lay. 

Pale flickered on the hearth the dying flame. 

And all was silent in that ancient hall, 
Save when by fits on the low night-wind came 

The murmur of the distant waterfall. 



20O MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

And lo ! the fairy queens who rule our birth 

Drew nigh to speak the new-born baby's doom : 

With noiseless step, which left no trace on earth, 
From gloom they came and vanished into gloom. 

Not deigning on the boy a glance to cast 

Swept careless by the gorgeous Queen of Gain ; 

More scornful still, the Queen of Fashion passed. 
With mincing gait and sneer of cold disdain. 

The Queen of Power tossed high her jewelled head. 
And o'er her shoulder threw a wrathful frown ; 

The Queen of Pleasure on the pillow shed 

Scarce one stray rose-leaf from her fragrant crown. 

Still Fay in long procession followed Fay ; 

And still the little couch remained unblest : 
But, when those wayward sprites had passed away. 

Came One, the last, flie mightie-st, and the best. 

Oh glorious lady, with the eye& of light 

And laurels clustering rotfnd thy lofty brow, 
Who by the cradle's side didst watch that night. 
Warbling a sweet, strange music, who wast thou ? 

" Yes, darling ; let them go ; " so ran the strain : 
" Yes ; let them go, gain, fashion, pleasure, power, 

And all the busy elves to whose domain 

Belongs the nether sphere, the fleeting hour.. 

*' Without one envi-ous sigh, one anxious scheme. 
The nether sphere, the fleeting hour resign. 

Mine is the world of thought, the world of dream, 
Mine all the past, and ali the future mine. \^ 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 201 

** Fortune, that lays in sport the mighty low, 
Age, that to penance turns the joys of youth, 

Shall leave untouched the gifts which I bestow, 
The sense of beauty and the thirst of truth. 

*' Of the fair brotherhood who share my grace, 
I, from thy natal day, pronounce thee free ; 

And, if for some I keep a nobler place, 
I keep for none a happier than for thee. 

" There are who, while to vulgar eyes they seem 

Of all my bounties largely to partake, 
Of me as of some rival's handmaid deem. 

And court me but for gain's, power's, fashion's sake. 

" To such, though deep their lore, though wide their 
fame, 

Shall my great mysteries be all unknown : 
But thou, through good and evil, praise and blame, 

Wilt not thou love me for myself alone ? 

" Yes ; thou wilt love me with exceeding love ; 

And I will tenfold all that love repay. 
Still smiling, though the tender may reprove. 

Still faithful, though the trusted may betray. 

*•' For aye mine emblem was, and aye shall be, 
The ever-during plant whose bough I wear, 

Brightest and greenest then, when every tree 
That blossoms in the light of Time is bare. 

*' In the dark hour of shame, I deigned to stand 
Before the frowning peers at Bacon's side : 

On a far shore I smoothed with tender hand. 

Through months of pain, the sleepless bed of Hyde : 



202 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

" I brought the wise and brave of ancient days 
To cheer the cell where Raleigh pined alone : 

I lighted Milton's darkness with the blaze 

Of the bright ranks that guard the eternal throne. 

" And even so, my child, it is my pleasure 
That thou not then alone shouldst feel me nigh. 

When, in domestic bliss and studious leisure, 
Thy weeks uncounted come, uncounted fly ; 

** Not then alone, when myriads, closely pressed 
Around thy car, the shout of triumph raise ; 

Nor when, in gilded drawing rooms, thy breast 
Swells at the sweeter sound of woman's praise. 

"No: when on restless night dawns cheerless mor* 
row, 

When weary soul and wasting body pine. 
Thine am I still, in danger, sickness, sorrow, 

In conflict, obloquy, want, exile, thine ; 

*' Thine, where on mountain waves the snowbirds 
scream. 
Where more than Thule's winter barbs the breeze. 
Where scarce, through lowering clouds, one sickly 
gleam 
Lights the drear May-day of Antarctic seas ; 

*' Thine, when around thy litter's track all day 
White sandhills shall reflect the blinding glare ; 

Thine, when, through forests breathing death, thy way 
All night shall wind by many a tiger's lair ; 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 203 

" Thine most, when friends turn pale, when traitors 

fly, 

When, hard beset, thy spirit, justly proud. 
For truth, peace, freedom, mercy, dares defy 
A sullen priesthood and a raving crowd. 

" Amidst the din of all things fell and vile. 
Hate's yell and envy's hiss, and folly's bray, 

Remember me ; and with an unforced smile 
See riches, baubles, flatterers, pass away. 

" Yes : they will pass away,; nor deem it strange : 
They come and go, as comes and goes the sea : 

And let them come and go : thou, through all change, 
Fix thy firm gaze on virtue and on me." 



PARAPHRASE OF A PASSAGE IN THE CHRONICLE OF 
THE MONK OF ST. GALL. 

[In the summer of 1856, the author travelled with a friend through 
Lombardy. As they were on the road between Novara and Milan, 
they were conversinij on the subject of the legends relating to that 
country. The author remarked to his companion that Mr. Panizzi, in 
the Essay on the Romantic Narrative Poetry of the Italians, prefixed to 
his edition of Bojardo, had pointed out an instance of the conversion of 
ballad poetry into prose narrative which strongly confirmed the theory 
of Perizonius and >iiebuhr, upon which "The Lays ot Ancient Rome" 
are founded ; and, after repeating an extract which Mr. Panizzi has 
given from the chronicle of " The Monk of St. Gall," he proceeded to 
frame a metrical paraphrase. The note in Mr. Panizzi's work (vol. i. p. 
123, note b) is here copied verbatim.] 

" The monk says that Oger was with Desiderius, King of Lombardy, 



204 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

watching the advance of Charlemagne's army. The king often asked 
Oger where was Charlemagne. Quando videris, inquit, segetem campis 
luliorrescere, ferreum Padum et Ticinum marinis fluctibus ferro nigranti- 
bus muros civitatis mundantes, tunc est spes Caroli venientis. His 
nedum expletis primum ad occasum Circino vel Borea ccepit apparere, 
quasi nubes tenebrosa, quae diem clarissimam horrentes convert it in um- 
bras. Sed propiante Imperatore, ex armorum splendore, dies omni nocte 
tenebrosior oborta est inclusis. Tunc visus est ipse ferreus Carolus fer- 
rea galea cristatus, ferreis manicis armUlatus, &c. ^. His igitur, quse 
ego balbus et edentulus, non ut debui circuitu tardiore diutius cxplicare 
tentavi, veridicus speculator Oggerus celerrimo visu contuitus dixit ad 
Desideriuni : Ecce, habes quem tantopere perquisisti. Et hsec dicens, 
pene exanimiscecidit."— MoNACH. Sangal. dt Reb. Bel. Caroli Magni. 
lib. ii. § xxvi. Is this not evidently taken froan poetical effusions { 



PARAPHRASE. 

To Oggier spake King DIdier : 

" When Cometh Charlemagne? 
We looked for him in harvest : 

We looked for him in rain. 
Crops are reaped ; and floods are past ; 

And still he is not here. 
Some token show, that we may know 

That Charlemagne is near." 

Then to the King made answer 

Oggier, the christened Dane : 
" When stands the iron harvest, 

Ripe on the Lombard plain, 
That stiff harvest which is reaped 

With sword of knight and peer, 
Then by that sign ye may divine 

That Charlemagne is near. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 20S 

*' When round the Lombard cities 

The iron flood shall flow, 
A swifter flood than Ticin, 

A broader flood than Po, 
Frothing white with many a plume. 

Dark blue with many a spear, 
Then by that sign ye may divine 

That Charlemagne is near." 



Here warlike coblers railed from tops of casks 
At lords and love-locks, monarchy and masques. 
There many a graceless page blasphe ning reel'd, 
From his dear cards and bumpers, \o the field : 
The famished rooks, impatient of delay, 
Gnaw their cogg'd dice and curse the lingering prey : 
His sad Andromache, with fruitless care, 
Paints her wan lips and braids her borrowed hair : 
For Church and King he quits his favourite arts, 
Forsakes his Knaves, forsakes his Queen of Hearts : 
For Church and King he burns to stain with gore 
His doublet, stained with nought but sack before. 

From a MS. Poem. 

THE cavalier's MARCH TO LONDON. (1824.) 



To horse ! to horse ! brave Cavaliers ! 

To horse for Church and Crown ! 
Strike, strike your tents ! snatch up your spears ! 

And ho for London town ! 
The imperial harlot, doom'd a prey 

To our avenging fires, 
Sends up the voice of her dismay 

From all her hundred spires. 



206 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

The Strand resounds with maidens' shrieks. 

The 'Change with merchants' sighs, 
And blushes stand on brazen cheeks. 

And tears in iron eyes ; 
And, pale with fasting and with fright, 

Each Puritan Committee 
Hath summon'd forth to prayer and fight 

The Roundheads of the City. 



And soon shall London's sentries hear 

The thunder of our drum, 
And London's dames, in wilder fear. 

Shall cry, AlacP ! They come ! 
Fling the fascines ; — tear up the spikes ; 

And forward, one and all. 
Down, down with all their train-band pikes, 

Down with their mud-built wall. 



Quarter ? — Foul fall your whining noise, 

Ye recreant spawn of fraud ! 
No quarter ! Think on Strafford, boys. 

No quarter ! Think on Laud. 
What ho ! The craven slaves retire. 

On 1 Trample them to mud, 
No quarter ! — Charge. — No quarter ! — Fire. 

No quarter !— Blood !— Blood !— Blood !— 

Where next ? In sooth there lacks no witch, 

Brave lads, to tell us where. 
Sure London's sbns be passing rich, 

Her daughters wondrous fair : 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 20/ 

And let that dastard be the theme 

Of many a board's derision, 
Who quails for sermon, cuff, or scream 

Of any sweet Precisian. 



Their lean divines, of solemn brow, 

Sworn foes to throne and steeple. 
From an unwonted pulpit now 

Shall edify the people : 
Till the tir'd hangman, in despair. 

Shall curse his blunted shears, 
And vainly pihch, and scrape, and tear. 

Around their leathern ears. 



We'll hang, above his own Guildhall, 

The city's grave Recorder, 
And on the den of thieves we'll fall, 

Though Pym should speak to order. 
In vain the lank-haired gang shall try 

To cheat our martial law ; 
In vain shall Lenthall trembling cry 

That strangers must withdraw. 



Of bench and woolsack, tub and chair. 

We'll build a glorious pyre, 
And tons of rebel parchment there 

Shall crackle in the fire. 
With them shall perish, cheek by jowl, 

Petition, psalm, and libel, 
The Colonel's canting muster-roll, 

The Chaplain's dog-ear'd bible. 



208 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

We'll tread a measure round the blaze 

Where England's pest expires, 
And lead along the dance's maze 

The beauties of the friars : 
Then smiles in every face shall shine, 

And joy in every soul. 
Bring forth, bring forth the oldest wine, 

And crown the largest bowl. 



And as with nod and laugh ye sip 

The goblet's rich carnation, 
Whose bursting bubbles seem to tip 

The wink of invitation ; 
Drink to those names, — those glorious names,- 

Those names no time shall sever, — 
Drink, in a draught as deep as Thames, 

Our Church and King for ever ! 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 209 



INSCRIPTION 



STATUE OF LORD WILLIAM BENTINCK. 
At Calcutta. 

(1835.) 



To 
William Cavendish Bentinck, 

Who, during seven years, ruled India with emin- nt 

Prudence, Integrity, and Benevolence : 

Who, placed at the head of a great Empire, never laid aside 

The simplicity and moderation of a private citizen : 

Who infused into Oriental despotism the spirit of 

British Freedom : 

Who never forgot that the end of Government is 

The happiness of the Governed : 

Who abolished cruel rites : 

Who effaced humiliating distinctions : 

Who gave liberty to the expression of public opinion : 

Whose constant study it was, to elevate the intellectual 

And moral character of the Nations committed to his charge : 

This Monument 

Was erected by men. 

Who, differing in Race, in Manners, in Language, 

And in Religion, 

Cherish, with equal veneration and gratitude, 

The memory of his wise, upright, . 

And paternal Administration. 



210 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



EPITAPH ON SIR BENJAMIN HEATH MALKIN. 

At Calcutta. 1837. 



This monument 

Is sacred to the memory 

Of 

Sir Benjamin Heath Malkin, Knight, 

One of the Judges of The Supreme Court of Judicature r 

A man eminently distinguished 

By his Uterary and scientific attainments, 

By his professional learning and ability, 

By the clearness and accuracy of his intellect, 

By diligence, by patience, by firmness, by love of tnith, 

By public spirit, ardent and disinterested. 

Yet always under the guidance of discretion. 

By rigid uprightness, by unostentatious piety, 

By the serenity of his temper, 

And by the benevolence of his heart. 

He was born on the 29th September, 1797. He died on the 21st 
October, 1837. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 211 



EPITAPH ON LORD METCALFE. (1847.) 



Near this stone is laid 
Charles Lord Metcalfe, 
A statesman tried in many high offices 
And difficult conjunctures, 
And found equal to all. 
The three greatest Dependencies of the British Crown 
Were successively entrusted to his care. 
In India, his fortitude, his wisdom, 
His probity, and his moderation, 
Are held in honourable remembrance 
By men of many races, languages, and religions. 
In Jamaica, still convulsed by a social revolution. 

His prudence calmed the evil passions 

Which long suffering had engendered in one class 

And long domination in another. 

In Canada, not yet recovered from the calamities of civil war, 

He reconciled contending factions 

To each other, and to the Mother Country. 

Costly monuments in Asiatic and American cities 

Attest the gratitude of the nations which he ruled. 

This tablet records the sorrow and the pride 
With which his memory is cherished by his family. 



212 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 



TRANSLATION FROM PLAUTUS. (1850.) 



[The author passed a part of the summer and autumn of 1850 at 
Ventnor, ia the Isle of Wight, lie usually, when walking alone, had 
with him a book. On one occasion, as he was loitering in the landslip 
near Bonchurch, reading the Rudens of Plautus, it struck him that it 
might be an interesting experiment to attempt to produce something 
which might' be supposed to resemble passages in the lost Greek drama of 
Dipliilus, from which the Rudens appears to have been taken. He 
selected one passage in the Rudens, of which he then made the follow- 
hig version, which he afterwards copied out at the request of a friend 
to whom he had repeated it.] 

Act IV. Sc. vii. 

D^MONES. O Gripe, Gripe, in aetate hominum plu- 

rimae 
Fiunt transennae, ubi decipiuntur dolis ; 
Atque edepol in eas plerumque esca imponitur. 
Quam si quis avidus pascit escam avariter, 
Decipitur in transenna avaritia sua. 
Ille, qui consulte, docte, atque astute cavet, 
Diutine uti bene licet partum bene. 
Mi istaec videtur praeda praedatum irier : 
Ut cum majore dote abeat, quam advenerit. 
Egone ut, quod ad me adlatum esse alienum sciam, 
Calem ? Minime istuc faciet noster Daemones. 
Semper cavere hoc sapientes aequissimum est, 
Ne conscii sint ipsi maleficiis suis. 
Ego, mihi quum lusi, nil moror ullum lucrum. 

Gripus. Spectavi ego pridem Comicos ad istum 

modum 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 2 1. 3 

Sapienter dicta dicere, atque iis plaudier, 
Quum illos sapientis mores monstrabant poplo ; 
Sed quum inde suam quisque ibant diversi domum, 
Nullus erat illo pacto, ut illi jusserant. 

AAIM. Tl rplire, Tplire, ifkeZcrra jrayiBav a-xvH'Ct'Ta 
1801 Tt9 av 7re7r7]<y/M€V iv 6vr)Ta)V /3ia), 
KoX TrXetcT 67r avrot'i SeXiaO', cov eTriOvfiia 
6p€'y6fj>ev6<; Tt9 iu KaKol^ oklaKerat • 
ocrTi9 S' a/mcTTel koI <TO(f)o}<i ^fXarrera? 
KaKa)<; aTToXavec rtav Ka\(o<; TreTropccrfiivcov, 
apirayfia S' ou^ aprray/jt o \apva^ ovTO<rl, 
aXX avTo<;, olfiai, fiaXkov dpTrd^ec nvd. 
rovK dv^pa Kkiirreiv rdWorpc — ev(f>y]fxeCy rdXav 
ravrrjv ye f^f] fiai'voiro fxaviav Aat,/iiov7]<;, 
ToBe yap del (TO(f>ouriv evXa/Srjriov, 
fiT] TL TToB' eavTut Ti9 dSiKTjfia avvvofi' 
KepBr] 8' efiotye irdvO' oaoi<; ev^paivojiai, 
KepBo<i B" a/cepSe? o Tovfiov dXyvvec Keap, 

TPIH. Kor/on fxev 'tjBr) KWitiKwv dKYjKoa 

<re/MVO)<i XeyovTwv roidBe, toi"? Be 6ecop,evov^ 
Kporelv, fiaraioL^ r)Bofievov<i <ro(f)i(TfJia<riv' 
eld\ a>9 dirriXd' e«;ao"To<? oXKaB\ ovBevl 
ovBev Trapifietve rdv /ca\w9 elprjfievcov. 



214 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

VALENTINE 

TO THE HON. MARY C. STANHOPE, 

(DAUGHTER OF LORD AND LADY MAHON.)* 

1851. 



Hail, day of Music, day of Love, 

On earth below, in air above. 

In air the turtle fondly moans, 

The linnet pipes in joyous tones ; 

On earth the postman toils along, ' 

Bent double by huge bales of song, 

Where, rich with many a gorgeous dye, 

Blazes all Cupid's heraldry — 

Myrtles and roses, doves and sparrows, 

Love-knots and altars, lamps and arrows. 

What nymph without wild hopes and fears, 

The double rap this morning hears ? 

Unnumbered lasses, young and fair, 

From Bethnal Green to Belgrave Square, 

With cheeks high flushed, and hearts loud beating, 

Await the tender annual greeting. 

The loveliest lass of all is mine — 

Good morrow to my Valentine ! 

Good morrow, gentle Child ! and then 
Again good morrow, and again. 
Good morrow following still good morrow, 
Without one cloud of strife or sorrow. 

* Already published by Earl Stanhope in his Miscellanies, 1863. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 21$ 

And when the God to whom we pay 

In jest our homages to-day 

Shall come to claim, no more in jest, 

His rightful empire o'er thy breast, 

Benignant may his aspect be, 

His yoke the truest liberty : 

And if a tear his power confess, 

Be it a. tear of happiness. 

It shall be so. The Muse displays 

The future to her votary's gaze ; 

Prophetic rage my bosom swells — 

I taste the cake — I hear the bells ! 

From Conduit Street the close array 

Of chariots barricades the way 

To where I see, with outstretched hand. 

Majestic, thy great kinsman stand,* 

And half unbend his brow of pride, 

As welcoming so fair a bride. 

Gay favours, thick as flakes of snow, 

Brighten St. George's portico : 

Within I see the chancel's pale, 

The orange flowers, the Brussels veil, 

The page on which those fingers white, 

Still trembling from the awful rite. 

For the last time shall faintly trace 

The name of Stanhope's noble race. 

I see kind faces round thee pressing, 

I hear kind voices whisper blessing ; 

And with those voices mingles mine — 

All good attend my Valentine ! 

T. B. Mac AULA Y. 

St. Valentine's Day, 1851. 

* The statue of Mr. Pitt in Hanover Square. 



ENOCH UOBGAirS SOITS* 




SAHim 



0I.BAN3 

WINDOTVg, 
MAEBLS, 

KNIVEa 
POLISHES 
TIN-WARE, 
JIU}N,SI£EL.&0. 




The demands now made by au educated musical public are so 
exacting, that very few pi. .no-forte manufacturers can produce instru- 
ments tliat will stand the test which merit requires. 

SoHMER & Co., as manufacturers, rank among this chosen few, 
who are acknowledged to be makers of standard instruments. In 
these days when miaiy manufacturers urge the Jew price of their 
wares, rather tlian their superior quality, as an inducement to pur- 
chase, it may not be amiss to suggest that, in a piano, quality and 
price are too inseparably joined, to i xpect the one without the other. 

Every piano ought to be judged as to the quality of its tone, its 
touch, and its workmanship ; if any one of these is wanting in excel- 
lence, however good the others may be, the instrument will be imper- 
fect. It is the combination of all th so qualities in the highest degree 
that constitutes the perfect piano, and it is such a combination, as has 
given the S QHMEB its hono rable posit ion with the trade and public. 

~ Pricesasreasonableasconsistent 

with the Highest Standard, 

MANUFACTURERS, 

l49toi55Easti4thSt.,N.Y. 



rvr&a. the SOHIVlkR its hono rable ] 

SOHME 



STANDARD PUBLICATIONS. 



Ohas. Dickens' Complete Works, 

15 Vols., l-^imo, cloth, Kilt, ?22.50. 
"W. H. Thackeray's Complete 
Works,- H Vols., l^iiuo, tiotu, gilt, 
$1&&0. 



George Eliot's Completo Works, 

8 Vols., l2mo. cloth, feilt, $10.0(1. 
Plutarch's Lives of Illustriotza 

Men, 3 Vols., 12mo. cloth, gUt. 

$4.50. 
JOHN "W. LOVELL CO., Publishera, 

14 AND 16 Veset Street, New Yorik. 



STANDARD PUBLICATIONS. 



XtolUns* Ascient History, 4 Vols., 
Ijimo, cloth, trilt, f6.C«i. 

Charles Eiugrht's Popular His- 
tory of Eiifeland, 8 yois., 12mo, 
«totb, gUt top, ;^ 13,00. 



Lovell's Series of Bed liina 
Poets, EO Volumes of all the beat 
works of the world's sreat Poet^ 
Tennyson, Sliakespere, Milton, Mere* 
dith, In£;dow, Proctor, Scott, Byroi^ 
Dante, i;c. $1.26 pef volume. 
JOHK W, LOVELL CO., Publishesra, 

H AKO 16 VESBT STJUSS7, Ksw X«il» 



IRRESISTIBLY DROLL! 



GRANDFATHER LICRSHlllE 



AND OTHER SKETCHES. 



By R. "W. CRISWELL, of the Cincinnati Enquirer, 
Author of " The New Shakespeare " and Other Travesties. 

A YOLUME OF GKN^Un^E HUMOEl 



1 vol., 12mo., cloth, gilt, 
1 " " paper. 



$1.00 
.50 



"Has made a wide reputation as a humorist." — BrooUyn Eagle. 
" One of the acknowledged humorists of the day." — N. Y. Mail and 
Express, 

" Has acquired a national fame." — Utica Observer. 
" His humor is as natural as sunlight." — BoU. J. Burdette, 
" Won a national reputation." — Pittsburgh Commercial Gazette, 
•* One of the brightest writers of the day." — Burlington HawTceye. 
" Has taken and held a place in the front rank." — 2f. Y. Truth. 
" There has been no brighter writer od' the Americ&n press in the 
past fifteen years." — Elmira Advertiser. 

"Mr. Criswell's writings are thoroughly original." — Bloomington 
Eye. 
'' A reputation enjoyed by few of his age." — Bradford Star. 

"His humor is quaint and scholarly." — Cincinnati CatTwlic Tele- 
graph, 

" He imitates nobody." — New York Sun. 

"Has made a world-wide reputation." — LouisvUle Courier-Journal^ 



JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY, PubHsliers, 

14 & 16 Vesey Street, New York. 



J, Fenimore Cooper's Masterpieces. 



THE SPY. 



The Last of the Mohicans. 

1 vol., 13mo. Paper Covers, 50c. Cloth, Gold and Black, |1 00. 



These books are unabridged, and printed on heavy white paper 
from large, new type. 

What Daniel Webster said of these Books: — "The enduring 
monuments of J. Fenimore Cooper are his works. While the love 
of country continues to prevail, his memory will exist in the hearts 
of the people. So truly patriotic and American throughout, they 
should find a place in every American's library." 

W. H. Prescott, the great historian, said: — "In his produc- 
tions every American must take an honest pride." 

Another great historian, George Bancroft, writes: — "His 
surpassing ability has made his own name and the names of the 
creations of his fancy * household words ' throughout the civilized 
world." 

Washington Irving left on record: — "Cooper emphatically 
belongs to the nation. He has left a space in our literature which 
will not be easily supplied." 

Wm. C. Bryant, the poet and philosopher, says:— "He wrote for 
mankind at large^ hence it is that he has earned a fame wider than 
any author of modern times. The creations of his genius shall 
survive through centuries to come, and only perish with our 
language." 



JOHN W. LOVELL CO., Pul}lishers, 

14 & 16 Vesey St., New York. 



HEART AND SCIENCE. 

By N^'Il-KIE COLLINS. 

1 Vol., 12mo., cloth, gUt , $1.00 

1 " " paper 50 

Also in LoveU's Library, No. 87 20 

" Benjulia" is a sini^ularly intpreeting, and, in a way, fascinating creation. 
Mr. CoUius can deal strongly wltli a st'ong situation, but he has done nothing 
more powerful than his sketch of Benjulia's last hours. Mr. Gallilee and Zoe 
are capital examples of genuine and unforced humor; and the book, as a 
whole, is thoroughly readable and enthralling from its first page to its last."— 
Academy. 

" Mr. Wilkie Collins' latest novel is 'certainly one of the ablest he has writ- 
ten. It is quite the eqnal of 'The Woman in Whits' and of 'The Moon- • 
Btone,' conseq^uently it may truthfully he described as a masterpiece in the 
eculiar line of fiction in which Mr. Collins not only excels but distances every 
ival in tlie walk of literature he has marked out for himeelf. 'Heart and 
Science ' is in its way a great novel, certainly tiie best we have soon from Mr. 
wilkie Collins since ' The Woman in White ' and' Armadale.'- " — Morning Post. 

"We doubt whether tbe author has everwrittcn a cleverer story. . . . An 
eloquent and touching tribute to the blessedness and power of a true and 
1 oving heart. The book unites in a high degree th«^ attrac'ions of thrilling nar- 
rative and clever portraiture of character, of sound wisdom and real humor." — 
Congregationalisi. r^ 



By OUIDA. 

1 vol., 12mo., cloth, gilt $1.00 

1 " " paper 50 

Also in LoveU's Library, No. 112, 2 parts, each 15 

"'Wanda' is the story by which Ouida will probably be judged by the 
literary historian of the future, for it is distinguished by all her hiL'h merits, 
and not disfigured by any oue of her few defects. In point of construction this 
most receat contribution to the fictional literature of the day is perfect; the 
dialogues are both brilliant and stirring, and the descriptive passages are mas- 
terpieces. Ouida is seen at her brightest and best in ' Wauda' the bork thrills 
by its dramatic interest, and delights by its singular freshness and unconven- 
tional style. There are no more attractive characters in English fiction than 
WanJa and her peasant husband, and increased fame roust result to the bril- 
liant novelist from this her latest work."— -S^. Stephen'' s Beview . 

" We do not know anything Ouida has done that equals this, her latest 
novel, iu power of delineating character and describing scenery. Wanda is a 
fine, hi^ii-^ouled character." — Citizen. 

"A powerful and fascinating novel, deeply interesting, with excellent 
character portrayal, and written in that sparkling style for which Ouida is 
famous. ' Wanrla' deserves to take rank by the side of the best of her previous 
novels." — Darlington Post. 

"'Wanda ' contains much that is striking. The central idea is finely 
worked out. We have seen nothing from Ouida's pen that strikes us as being, 
on the whole, so well conceived and so skilfully wrought onV— Spectator. 

JOHN W. LOVELL CO., 

14 & 16 Vesey Street, New York. 



LOVELL'S LIBRA.RY ADVERTISER. 



POPULAR NO VELS RECENTLY PUBUSKED. 

Mb. William Black's New Novel, 
YOLAIiDE, The Story of a Daughter, 
By William Black, Author of "Shandon Bells," "A Princess of 
Thuie," "The Strange Advenluresof a Phaeton," etc.; 1 vol., 
12mo., ©loth, gilt, $1.00; 1 vol., 12mo., paper, 50 ceuts; also 
in Lovell's Library, No. 13G, 20 cents. 
"A thoroughly pleasant, readable 
book, showiug all Mr. Black's best 
qualitieii as a novelist."— Pa// Mall 
Gazette. 



"The novel will satisfy Mr. Black's 



numerous admirers that his right 
hand has lost none of iis cunniug." 
—SI. Jamen' Gazette. 

" 'Toiande' will please and mtereet 
many.' — Whilekall Review. 



The LADIES LINDOKES. By Mrs. Oliphant. Originally 
y\xh\\s,\\&(!im Blackwood's Magazine. 1 vol , 12mo., cloth, gilt, $1. 



"She is always readable, but never 
so eutertamins; as wheQ ehe lays the 
pcene iu Scotland . It is impossible 
to imagine sketches more lifelike than 
th«se of old Rolls, the pragmatic but- 
ler ..of Miss Barbara Erskine, the 
high-spirited, punctihoas, but sensi- 
ble old aunt; of Lord Riutoul, the 
weakly yet coolly selfish aud sensible 
young lord of the ordinary young 



laird John Erskine, aud of the most 
modern of marquises, Lord Mille- 
fleurs "— Speclalw. 

" 'The Ladies Lindores' is in every 
respect excellent There are two 
girls at leaiet in this buok who might 
make the fortune of any novel, being 
deliciously feminine and natural." — 
Saturday Review. 



LOYS, LORD BERESFOBD, aud OLher Tales, By the 

Author of "Phyllis," "Molly Bawn," "Mrs. Geoffrey," etc. 

1 vol., 13mo., cloth, gilt, $1.00; also ia Lotell's Libeaet,No. 

126, 1 vol., 12mo., paper cover, 20 cents. 

"That delightful writer, the author i ular Thera Is something good In all 

of 'Phyllis,' has given us a collection of them, and one or two are especially 

of stories which cannot fail to he pop- I racy and piquant."— J'A^ Acaiiemy. 

NO NEW THING. By W. E. Norris, Author of "Matri- 
mony;" "Mademoiselle de Mersac," etc. 1 vol., 12mo., cloth, 
gilt. $1,00; also in Lovell's Library, No. 108, 20 cents. 



'Mir. Norris has succeeded. His 
story, 'No New Thing,' is a very curi- 
ous one Theie is uumisiakable 

capacity ia his work." — Spectator. 



'No New Thing' is bright, readable 
and clever, and in every sense of the 
word a thoroughly interesting book." 
— Whifthall Review. 



ARDEN. By A.Mary P. Robinson. 1 vol., 12mo., in Lovell's 
Library, No. 134, 15 cents. 



"Miss Robinson must certainly be 
congratulated on having scored a suc- 
cess at the very beginning of her ca- 
reer. 'Arden' is an extremely clever 
Btory, and though it is one merely of 
evcry-day life, yet the incidents are so 
clothed as to appear fresh and new, 
aud the scent of the hay throughout 
is invigorating and refreshing, Tlie 
heroine, who gives her name to the 
book, is a wild, impulsive creature 
whom one cannot help liking, iu spite 
of various weaknesses iu her char- 



acter. Brought up in Rome, on the 
death of her father, Ardcn returns to 
his native village in Warwickshire, 
there to make acquaintance with the 
truest and freshest country people we 
have ever met on paper. The story 
is simply that of Arden's life and 
marriage, but it is never wearisome 
because of the sharpness of the writ- 
ing, and we have to thank Miss Robin- 
son for a very good novel indeed." — 
Whitehall Review. 



New York JOHK W. I.OVE1.I. COMPANY. 



LOVELL'S LIBRARY ADVERTISER. 



RECENTLY PUBLISHED: 

UNDERGROUND RUSSIA: 

RftTolutionary Profiles and Sketches from Life. 
By STEPNIAK, formerly Editor of " Zemlia i Volia" (Land and 
Liberty). With a Preface by PETER LAVROPF. Translated 
from the Italian. 1 vol. 12mo., paper cover, Lovell's Library, 
No. 173 price 20 cents. ^ 

"The book is as yet uniqne in literature; it la a pricele?s contribnfion to 
onr knowledge of EiissiMn thought and feeling; as a true and faithful reflection 
of certain aspects of, perhajis, the most treinendons politicial movement m 
history, it seems destined to become a standard work."— Athen^um. 



line of the History of 

Prom the Earliest Times to the present day. 
By JUSTIN H. McCARTHY. 1 vol. 12eqo., Lovell's Library 
No. 115, price 10 cents. 

"A timplyand exceedingly vigorons and interesting little volume. The book 
is worthy of attentive perusal, and will be all the more interesting because it 
involves in its production the warm sympathies, the passionate enthusiasm, and 
the vivid brilliancy of style which one is glsid to welcome irom the son of the 
distinguished journalist and author."— Christian World, 

"All Irishmen who love their country, and ail candid Englishmen, ought to 
welcome Mr. Justin H. McCarthy's little volume— 'An Outline of Irish History.' 
Tiiorfa who want to know how it has come about that, as John Stuart Mill long 
apo pointed out, all cries for the remedy of specific Irish grievances are now 
merged in the dangerous demand for nationality, will do well to read Mr. 
McCarthy s little book. It Is eloquently written, and carries us from the earliet t 
legends to the autumn of 1882. The charm of the style and the impetuousness 
in the flow of the narrative are refreshing and stimulating, and, aa regards his- 
toric impartiality, Mr.McCarthy is far more just than isMr.Froude.'— Graphic. 

"A brightly written and intelligent account of the leading events in Irish 

annals Mr. McCarthy has performed a diflicult task with commendable 

good spirit and impartiality."— Whitehall Review. 

'To those who enjoy esceptionally brilliaut and vigorous writing, as well 
as to those who dcire to post themselves up in the Irish question, we cordially 
recommend Mr. McCarthy's little book."— Evening News. 



ENGLISH MEN OF LETTERS. 

Edited by JOHN MORLEY. 
Published in 12mo. vols., paper covers, price 10 cents each. 

Thackeray. By A. Trollope. 
Burke. By Joha Mor.ey. 
BuNTAN. By J. A. Fronde. 
Pope. By Lu-slie Stephen. 
Btron. By Professor Kichol. 
CowpEE. By Goldwin Smith. 
Locke. By Professor Fowler. 
Wordsworth. By F.W.H.Myera. 
Milton. By Mark Pattison. 
SotTTHEY. By Professor Dowden. 
Chaucer. By Prof. A. W . Ward. 



Johnson. By Leslie Stephen. 
Scott. By R. H. Button. 
Gibbon. By J. C. Morison. 
Shelley. By J. A. Svmonds. 
HuMB. By Prof. Huxley, P.R.S. 
Goldsmith. By William Black. 
Defok. By W. Minto. 
Burns. By Principal Shairp. 
Spenser. By the Very Rev. the Dean 
of St. Paul's. 



yew Tork: JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY. 



LOVELL'S LIBRARY ADVERTISER. 

VICE VERSA; 

Or, A LESSON TO FATHERS. 

By F. ANSTEY. 

1 Tol., li8mo., cloth gilt, $1.00; 1 vol., 12mo., paper, 50 cents; niao in Lovell's 
Library, No. 30, 20 cents. 

EXTRACTS PSOM NOTICES BY THE PRESS. 

THE SATURDAY REVIEW — " If there ever was a book made up from 
beginning to end of laugliter, yet not a comic Doolv, or a '/nerry' boolc, or i 
book of jokes, or a book of pictures, or a jest book, or a tomfool book, but a 

f)erfectly sober and serious book, in the reading of which a «ober man may 
augh without shame from beginning to end, it is the book called 'Vice 

Versa; or, a Lesson to Fathers.' We close the book, recommending it 

very earnestly to all fathers, in the first instance, and theit sons, nephews, 
uncles, and male cousins next.'' 

THE PALL MALL GAZETTE.— " 'Vice Versa ' is one of the most 
diverting books that we have read fer many a day. It is equally calculated to 
amuse the August idler, and to keep up the spirits of those who stay in town 

and work, while others are holiday making The book is singularly well 

written, graphic, terse, and full of nerve. The schoolboy conversations are 
to the life, and every scene is brisk and well considered." 

T^E ATHEN.EUM.—" The whole story Is told with delightful drollery 
and spirit, and there is not a dull page in the volume. It should be added that 
Mr.Anstey wrii^es well, and in a style admirably suited to his amusing subject.'' 

THE SPECTATOR.—" Mr. Anstey deserves the thacks of everybody. for 
showing that there is still a little fun left in this world .... It is long since we 

read anything more truly humorous We must admit that we have not 

laughed so heartily over anything for some yearf bacii aa we have over this 
' Lesson for Fathers.' " 

THE ACADEMY.—" It is certainly the beet book of its kind that has ap- 
peared for a long time, and in the way of provoking laughter by certain old- 
fashioned means, which do not involve satire or sarcasm, it has few rivals.' 

THE WORLD.—" The idea of a father and son exchanging their identity 
has suggested itself to many minds before now. Itis illuftrated in this book 

with surprising freshness, originality and force The book is more than 

•wildly comic and amusing; it is in parts ex.ceedingly pathetic." 

THE COURT JOURNAL.— "The story is told with so much wit and 
gayety that we cannot be deceived in our impression of ihe future career of F. 
Anstey being destined to attain the greatest success among the most popular 
authors of the day." 

VANITY FAIR.— '"The book is, in our opinion, the drollest work ever 
written in the English language." 

TRUTH. — " Mr. Anstey has done an exceedingly difficult thing so admira- 
bly and artfully as to conceal its difficulties. Haven't for years read so irresist- 
ibly humorous a book." 



NEW YORK : 

JOHN W. LOVELL CO., 14 and 16 Vesey Street. 



GOTHAM'S GREAT GUFFAW! 

Jets and Flashes, 

By ERRATIC ENRIQUE, (The " Nev York Ne^ " Kan.) 

Wit!) Grotesque llliistrations k| RENE BACKE. 

JVoto ready in, one IStno vol., handsome paper covers, 90mt», 
Nea,tly bound in cloth, $1.00. 



ADVANCE PRESS NOTICES. 

"The sayings both witty »nd wlae, of Erratic Enrique, are to be pnbliflhed 
between covers." — New York Herald. 

" Mr. Henry Clay Lukens, the author of the new hnmorons book, Jbts ajktd 
Flashes, is one of the brijjhtest jowraalists in America. Vv"e ehall be glad to have 
this generous portion of his excellent literary worli in endnriug form." — Lyons 
EepuMican, 

"Mr. Lukens baa been well called the leading American humorist. This last 
work, a compilation ©f his prose and verse, is published by the John W. lovell 
Company of New York. — Hartford Sunday Journal. 

" Among coming 'black-and-white' caricaturists, please note Kenfi Bache. He 
will in time draw as well as a mustard-plaster, and be far more desirable. — Texat 
Sifiinm. 

" Jets and Plashbs will contain mirth and philofiophy for the mLllion«." — 
Camden, N. J., Poet. 

" Henry Clay Lukens is at the very front of New York hnmoriste. Eveiybody 
should buy, and read his electrical Jets and Flashes." — Truth. 

" As a writer of jeu de mots. Erratic Enrique is known to every household in 
the land. The beamiug eyes of Summer maidenn, are anxiously waiting for Jets 
AND Flashes. Its genuine wit and humor will set the country in a tom."— Jersey 
City Herald. 

" The price (twenty cents') will bring Jets and Flashhs within the reach of 
the mirthful millions, to whom Mr. Uenry Clay Lukens dedicatea his volume." 
— St. Louis Evening Chronicle. 

" The book (Jets and Flaphes) is full of snap, wisdom and sentimental and 
quirzical sketches." — Publis/iers' Weekly. 

"Mr. Lukens' versatile pen has made him famous; and his writings are pub- 
lished all over the world, where the Eng ish languiifje is ^poken. Lovjell's Lib- 
BABT will add to it another excellent book." — Whitehall Time.s. 

" H. Clay Lukens is one of the brightest, and best known of the New York 
newspaper guild. " — Cincinnati Enquirer. 

" Erratic Enrique, wields a graceful pen, filled with Jbts akd Fi^ashss. — Jfer- 
cTiant Traveler. 

" This volume of quaint fancies, will be found one of the most readable of the 
humorouB waifs."— St'^afo Evening News. « 

" Those familiar w"ith the writing of Erratic Enrique, will find garnered within 
the pages of Jets and Flashes, the many gems that from time to time have 
dropped from his prolific pen. The volume is calculated to entertain a wide circle 
of readers." — Hackensack Bemibliean. 

• ' Mr. Lukens is nationally known as a humorist; and his forthcoming book 
will undoubtedly meet with a large sale." — Arkansaw TravtUr. 

JOHN W. LOVELL CO., 

PUBLISHERS, 

Jf*«. 14 and 16 Tetejf St., Jfcw York Citff. 



LOVELL'S LIBRA.RY ADVERTISEE. 

RECENTLY PXJBEISHED. 

False Hopes; 

OR, 

FALLACIES, SOCIALISTIC AND SEMI-SOCIALISTIC, 
BRIEFLY ANSWERED. 



An Address, by Prof. aOLD^WTN" SMITH, D.C.L. 

No. 110, Lovell'B Library 15 cents 

'• This ia the title of a pamphlet in which Mr. Goldwin Smith diesects and 
lays bare, in the most unimpaseioned way, but with the keenest of literary 
scalpels, the fallacies involved in communism, socialism, national izatiom of 
land, strikes, the variO'is plans in vogue for emancipating labor from, the 
dominion of capital. Protection, and some theories of innovation with regard to 
Currency and Banking. The great number and prevalence of these diseases of 
the body politic are, he thinks, mainly due to the departure or decline of re- 
ligious faith, which is so noticeable a feature of the present age; to popular 
education, which has gone far enough to make the masses think, but not think 
deeply ; to the ostentation of the vulgar rich, who ' deserve, fully as much as 
the revolutionary artisans, the name of a dangerous class;' to the democratic 
movement of the times ; and, to the revolution in science which has helped 
to excite the spirit of change in every sphere, little as Utopianism is akin to 
science. '"—Tcwo/tto Glule. 

MR. SCARBOROUGH'S FAMILY 

By ANTHONY TROLLOPE. 

1 vol.. 13(no., cloth, gilt $1.00 

1 " " paper 50 

Also in Lovell's Library, No. 133, 2 parts, each 15 

"In 'Mr. Scarborough's Family' there is abundance of 'go,' there are 
many strikitig scenes, and there is one character at least which is original 
almost to inciedibihty. There are light sketches of social life, one or two of 
them nearly in the author's best manner and many chapters which are ex- 
tremely entertaining. The story is so life like and so extremely readable, that 
we lay it down with a pleasure largely leavened with regret.' '—Saturday 
jRevieiv, 

" • Mr. Scarborough's Family ' is a very enjoyable novel. Mr. Trollope has 
never given us two stronger or less commonplace characters than that terrible 
old pagau, .John Scarborough, and his attorney. Grey, whom we agree with his 
employer in describing as ' the sweetest and finest gentleman ' we ever came 
across." — Academy. 

'"Mr Scarburough's Family' recalls all those features in Mr. Trollope's 
books which have made them the pleasure and instruction of generations of 
novel readers. He is in his old vein, and he has a story to tell that is infinitely 
amusing. Mr. Siarborough is a wonderful study. There is, indeed, no char- 
acter in the book that has not been carefully thought out. There i% a delight- 
ful frc-hncss about Florence Mountjoy. She is a fiank, outspoken damsel, 
whose mind is as healthy as her body. It is needless to say that the talk 
throughout the book is good. The novel as a whole, indeed, is one that will 
make r aders regret more bitterly than ever that he who wrote it has gone from 
amongst us." — Scotsman. 

JOHN W. LOVELL CO., 14 & 16 Vesey St., N. Y. 



LOVELL'S LIBRARY. 



AHEAD OF ALL COMPETITORS. 



The improvements being constantly made in ''Lovell's 
Library " have placed it in the Front Rank of cheap publi- 
cations in this country. The publishers propose to still 
further improve the series by having 

B£TT£R PAPER, 

BETTER PRINTING* 

LARGER TYPE, 

and more attractive cover than any other series in the market. 



SEE •X^^HA.a: ZS S.A.IX5 of 1T: 

The following extract from a letter recently received 
shows the appreciation in which the Library is held by those 
who most constantly read it: 

♦'Mercantile Library, ) 
"Baltimore, August 29, 1883. ) 
""Will you kindly send me two copies of your latest list? I am 
glad to see that you now issue a volume every day- Your Library we 
find greatly preferable to the ' Seaside ' and ' Franklin Square ' Series, 
and even better than the 12mo. form of the latter, the page being of 
better shape, the lines better leaded, and the words better spaced. 
Altogether your series is much more in favor with our subscribers than 
either of its rivals. 

"S. C. DONALDSON, Assistant Librarian." 



JOHN W. LOVELL CO., Publishers, 

14 & IS Vesey Street, ITe-uv York. 



LOVELL'S LIBRARY-CATALOGUE. 



Eyre's Acquittal 10 217 

20,000 Leagues Under 218 

the Seu, by Verne. . . .20 219, 
Anti-Slavery Days... .20 
Beauty's Daughters.. .20 
Beyond the Sunrise.. . .20 
Hard Times, Dickens- -.20 
Tom Cringle's Log. . .' ^20 

Vanity Fair 30 

Underground Russia. .20 
Middlemarch, Eliot.., ,20 

Do., Part II 20 

Sir Tom, Mrs Oliphant .20 
Pelham, by Lytton. . . .20 

The Story of Ida 10 

Madcap Violet, Black .20 

The Little Pilgrim 10 

Kilmeuy, by Black. . . .30 
Whist or Bumble- 
puppy? 10 

The Beautiful Wretch .20 

Her Mother's Sin 20 

Green Pastures and 
Piccadilly, Black ... .20 
Tfie Mysterious Island .15 

Do., PartTT 15 

Do., Part III 15 

rom Brown at Oxford .15 

Do., Part II 15 

rhicker than Water. . .20 
[u Silk Attire, Black. .,-.'0 
Scottish Chiefs, P't I. ;>() 

Do., Part II 20 

Willy Reilly, Cavletou .20 
rhe Nautz Family . . .20 
3reat Expectations . .20 
Pend'ennis, Thackeray .20 

Do., Part 11 20 

Widow Bedott Papers .20 
Daniel Derouda, Eliot. ..20 

Do., Part II .20 

MtioraPeto, Oliphant .20 
By the Gate of the Sea .15 
rales of a Traveller.. .20 
Life and Voyages of 

Columbus P't I. .20 

Do. (Irving), Part II... .20 
rhe Pilgrim's Progress .20 
Martin Chuzzlewit. . . .20 

30., Part II 20 

riieophrastus Such... ,10 
)isarmed, M.Edwards .35 
Eugene Aram, Lyttou .20 
rhe Spanish CTypsy 

and Other Poems 20 

:ast Up by the Sea ... ,90 
Will on the Floss. P't I .15 

3o. (Eliot), Part 11 15 \ 257. 

Srother Jacob, Eliot. .10 i 258. 

rhe Executor 20 1 259, 

American Notes 15 

PheNewcomes, Parti .30 

Jo., Part II 20 

rhe Privatecrsman. . . .20 
Phe Three Feathers. .20 

Phantom Fortune 20 263. 

icd Eric, Ballautyne. .20 2(14, 
.ady S i 1 V e r d a 1 e ' a 265 
Sweetheart, Black. .'. .iQ 266 



220. 
221. 
222. 
,223. 

224. 

225. 
22G. 

227. 

228. 

229^ 
230." 
231. 

232 
233. 

234. 
235. 

236. 

237. 
238. 

239. 
240. 
241. 
242. 
243. 
244. 

245. 

240. 

247. 

248. 

.250. 

251. 

253. 

253. 
254. 



356. 



2()1. 



The Four Macnicols. 

Mr. Pisistratus Brown 

Dombey & Son, Part I 

Do., Part II.... 

Book of Snobs 

Grimm's Fairy Tales.. 

. The Dispwned,'Lytton 

Little Dorrit, Dickens. 

Do., Partll 

Abbotsford and New- 
stead Abbey, Irving. 

Oliver Goldsmith 

The Fire Brigade 

Eifle and Hound in 
Ceylon 

Our Mutual Friend . . . 

Po. Part II 

Paris Sketches 

Belinda, Broughton... 

Nicholas Nickleby 

Do., Part II 

Monarch Mincing Lane 

Eight Years Wander- 
ing in Ceylon, Baker 

Pictures from Italy 

Adventures of Philip. 

Do.,PartII 

Knickerbocker His- 
tory of New York . . . 

ThcBoy atMughy.... 

The Virginians, P't I. 

Do. .Part II.... 

Eriing the Bold 

Kenelm Chillingly 

Deep Down . , ^ 

Samuel Brohl «& Co . . 

Gautran, by Farjeon.. 

Bleak House, Part I.. 

Do.. Part II 

WhatWillHeDoWi'It 

Do., Part 11 

Sketches of Young 
Couples 

Devcreux, Lytton.... , 

Life of Webster, 2 pts. , 

The Crayon Papers... 

The C'ixtonsj, Lytton. , 

Do., Part 11 

Autobiography of An- 
thony TroUope. . . . 

Critical Reviews, by 
Thackeray 

Lucretia. Lytton, P't I , 

Peter, the Whaler 

Last of the Barons . . . 

Do., Part ir 

Eastern Sketches 

All in a Garden Fair. . 

File No. 113, Gaboriau , 

The Parisians, Lvttou. . 

Do., Part II 

Mrs. Darling's Letters . 

Master Humphrey's 
Clock. ..:. 

B'atal Boots, Thackr'y . 

The Alh;imbra, Irving , 

The Four Georges . . . . 

Plutarch's Lives. 5 pta 1. 

Under the Red Flag... , 



267. The Haunted House.. 

268. V?hen the Ship Cornea 

Home 

269. One False, both Fair. . 

270. Mudfog Papers 

871. My Novel, by Bulwer- 

Lytton. 3 parts 

272. Conquest of Granada.. 

273. Sketches by Boz 

274. A Christmas Carol 

275,' .lone Stewart, Linton . . 
276. Harold, Lytton, Part I 

Do,. Part II... 

377. Dora Thorne 

278. Maid of Athens 

279. Tile ConqueBt of Spain 

280. Fitzboodle Papers 

281 . Bracebridge Hall 

282. T h e Uncommercial 

Traveler 

283. Roundabout Papers. .. 

284. Eossmoyne, Duchess. 

285. A Legend of the Rhine 

286.. Cox's Diary 

287. Beyond Pardon, 

.288. Somebody's Luggage, 

and Mrs. Lirriper'a 
Lodgings 

289. Godolphni, Lytton 

290. Salmagundi, Irving 

391. Famous Funny Fel- 
lows, Clemens 

292. Irish Sketches 

2m. The Battle of Life.... 

294. Pilgrims of the Rhine 

295. Random Shots, Adeler 

296. Men's Wives 

297. Mystery of Edwin 

Drood, by Dickens. . . 

298. Reprinted Pieces from 

C. Dickens 

299. Astoria, by W. Irving. 

300. Novels by Eminent 

Hands 

301. Spanish Voyages 

303. No Thoroughfare. . . . 
303. Character Sketches... 
3('4. Christmas Books 

305. A Tour on the Prairies 

306. Ballads of Thackeray.. 

307. Yellowplush Papers. . . 

308. Life of Mahomet, P't I 
Do., Part II 

309. Sketches and Travpls 

in London, Thack'ray 

310. Life of Goldsmith 

311. Capt. Bonneville 

312. Golden Girls, Alan Muir 
Sr3. English Humorists . . . 

314. Moorish Chronicles... 

315. Winifred Power 

316. Great Hoggarty Dia- 

mond 

317. Pausanias, Lytton 

318. The New Abelard 

319. A Real Queen 

320. The Rose and the Ring 

321. Wolfert'sRooet, Irving 

322. Mark Seaworth 



.10 

.10 
.20 
.10 

.60 
.20 
.20 
.15 
.20 
.15 
.15 
.20 
.20 
.10 
10 
.20 



.10 
.20 
.20 

.20 
.20 
.10 
.15 
.20 
.10 

SO 

.20 
.20 



.10 
.20 
.10 
.10 
.20 
,10 
.15 
.10 
.15 
.15 

.10 1 

.20 

.20 

.20 

.15 

.10 

.20 

.10 

.15 
.20 
.20 
.20 
.10 
120 



BHAIU AITD UERVE POOI 




COMPOSED OF THE NEHXTE-GflVING PRINCIPLES OF 

THE OX-BRAIN AND WHEAT-GERM. | 

It restores th,e energy lost by. Nervousness or Indigestion; relieve! 
Lassitude and Neuralgia; refreshes the nerves tired by worry, exoitC' 
ment, or excessive brain fatigue ; strengthens a failing memory, an( 
gives renewed vigor in ail diseases of Nervous Exhaustion or Debility 
It is the only PREVENTIVE FOR CONSUMPTION. 

It aids wonderfully in the mental and bodily growth of infants a 
child/ren. Dander its use the teeth come easier, the hones grow better, the sla-^ 
piumper and smoother; the brain acquires more readily, aiid rests and sleep\ 
more sweetly. An ill- fed brain learns no lessons, and is excusable -tf peevish 
It gvoes a happier and better childhood. 

-^ "It is ■witli the utmost confidence tliat I recommend this excelle^ ' prr 
paration for the relief of indigestion and for general debility; nay, I domori 
than recommend, 1 really urge all invalids to put it to the test, for in sev- 
eral cases personally known io me signal benefits have been derived f roiu 
its use. I have recently watched Its effects on a young friend who ha« 
Buffered from indigestion ^11 her life. After taking the Vitalized Phob- 
FHiTKa for a fortnight she said to me; ' I feel another person; it is a pleas- 
ure to live.' Many hard-working men and women — especially those engaged 
in brain work — would be saved from the fatal resort to chloral and otne i 
destructive stimulants^ if they would have recourse to a remedy ao simpla 
and so efiicacious." 

Emilt FAiTBurxn.1.. 

Phtsicians havb prescribbd over 600,000 Packages bbcatjsh THMt 
HMOW ITS Composition, that it is not a secret bkmkdt, ajtd 

THAT THE FOBMUI<A IS FRINTED ON STEBT ULSUt | 

For Sale by t>mzs:i*^» or by Viail, (|x. I 

E. CROSBY CO., 664 and 666 Sixth Avenne, New York. 



